


Recovery

by kellbelle



Series: Fenhawke 4lyfe [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Musical Hawke, Shit Gets Dark Yo, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellbelle/pseuds/kellbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A study of the complex relationship between a sweet, young rogue and a dashing, brooding elf.</p><p>Marian Hawke is a proud and caring refugee when she encounters the ex-slave Fenris. There is an instant connection neither of them understand and a whole lot of drama in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I am mostly new to writing, so please be gentle!  
> To get a feel for different parts of the story, I'll be recommending some songs I've been obsessed with to accompany the chapters.  
> For this chapter, I recommend:  
> Clair de Lune - Flight Facilities. Link = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lKlBTmylvqY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am mostly new to writing, so please be gentle!  
> To get a feel for different parts of the story, I'll be recommending some songs I've been obsessed with to accompany the chapters.  
> For this chapter, I recommend:  
> [Flight Facilities - Clair de Lune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lKlBTmylvqY)

Marian Hawke and her band of merry followers sauntered their way to the Alienage to help a man named Anso with some trivial dispute retrieving property (or something of the sort she couldn't bother to remember). Aveline, Varric, and Bethany approached the Vhenadahl in the middle of the Alienage after leaving the abandoned house when they were ambushed.

Unfazed, half expecting it, Marian unsheathed her twin daggers from her back and jumped into battle with Varric's arrows firing from behind and Aveline's battle cry erupting into the night. Bethany's magic was heavy in the air while Marian danced left and right, cutting down slaver after slaver in a blur of rapidly moving blades. Marian recognized the slavers immediately, realizing the Alienage would be the perfect trap for poor unsuspecting elven citizens of Kirkwall and she fought with even more of a fury than before. Marian had fought many enemies just in the city of Kirkwall alone but slavers particularly made her blood boil.

When she had seen the last of them within her sight fall, she turned towards the stairs and immediately her gaze fell upon a stranger with a furious look on his face. A man tried speaking to her, recognizing Hawke as the leader and saying something about making a mistake but she was too distracted watching the stranger approach from around the corner.

A tall, statuesque elf with tanned skin and intricate, white tattoos stood facing the party with a determined and menacing look in his striking green eyes when the remaining slaver turned to the peculiar stranger. The elf's tattoos suddenly erupted in blue light that shimmered throughout his body and his hand struck through the slaver's chest, pulling his still-beating heart with it.

Her heart pounded wildly in her's in response.

_Who is this man? Does he wish to harm me?_

The stranger's brilliant jade eyes poured into Hawke's seemingly dull, dark eyes and then something seemed to click. It was subtle and fast but devastating. In a daze, Hawke looked in awe as the world seemed to slow and the man's tattoos glowed bright blue in response. She wondered fleetingly if she even bothered to breathe as she stared in admiration and shock. He was so... beautiful. She knew absolutely nothing of this elf but she felt as if she had known him for years in that moment. 

“I apologize,” his low, slightly quivering voice was directed towards Hawke but she was utterly lost. Her hands felt slick against her daggers, the fast rhythm of her heart continued to distract her and her voice felt tight within her throat. He continued on with his explanation, while she barely kept up.

_Maker, what is wrong with me? What is happening?_

“My name is Fenris,” he began. _F_ _enris... Why does he look so familiar?_

 

Hawke found herself accompanying the ex-slave from Tevinter to his former Master's Hightown estate. When she had found the courage to speak, she had explained to Fenris that she was happy to help him if slavers were after him and that all he really had to do was ask her. That was just the kind of person Marian was.

Little did she know helping him would bring her into a brutal fight with rage demons and shades alike but she ultimately did not mind. After the arcane horror had fallen and Fenris realized his master was not there, his expression became furious.

It turned out that Fenris really hated mages. Really, _really_ hated mages. He began ranting to Hawke about how dangerous mages were while her sister, Bethany, shifted uncomfortably next to her. She flashed Bethany a reassuring and brief smile and responded neutrally, wishing to avoid a disagreement because in truth the elf scared her.

They parted ways and that night, as she lay next to Bethany in their Uncle Gamlen's small, rundown home in the dregs of Lowtown, she couldn't sleep. His eyes, his gaze so intense and fierce burned into her memory and she felt her heart quicken again. Hawke knew this wasn't like her at all; not many had piqued her interest before and for her to be so fascinated with someone so easily within a matter of seconds was simply unnatural. 

 

 ---

 

“Wait, let me get this straight. _How_ old are you again?” Varric's voice boomed across the table at the Hanged Man while her companions looked on eagerly. Marian looked down at her hands on her lap uncomfortably and hesitantly, reached to take a long sip of ale from her mug.

“Eighteen,” she mumbled into her flagon of ale.

“Eighteen,” Anders repeated somewhat uncomfortably.

“So how old does that make your sister?” Isabela demanded.

“Seventeen, she and Carver-” the mention of her deceased brother sent a pang of guilt and despair to her and she smiled sadly before continuing. “They were twins. Just about a year younger than me.”

Varric sympathetically clinked his mug against her's and they all downed the rest of their drinks. Hawke felt that unmistakable gaze on her and dared herself to look up. Fenris was sitting at the end of the table looking directly at her. As soon as they locked eyes, he immediately diverted his gaze back to his cards.

Hawke inevitably lost this round of Wicked Grace and then the next two when she decided to bail out and leave. Her companions were grumpy and tired after losing to Isabela knowing she had cheated and barely acknowledged her as she hopped out of her chair and went out into the streets.

It was three in the morning by the time Hawke exited the tavern and met with the a surprising blast of cold air and furious rain. She scowled to herself and began walking towards her Uncle's home. Knowing her mother, she would be angry and would get a lecture about respectable girls not drinking in taverns at all hours of the night with questionable friends.

She had passed the closed market stalls when she felt the presence of someone behind her despite the hard pattering of rain that had soaked through her entirely. Her pulse quickened as she stood still, hearing the inevitable swish of someone's feet faintly wading through the partially flooded streets. A few moments later after feigning indifference, she continued around a corner waiting for her follower to approach. She brought out a dagger and stood back against the hard, stone wall when the figure walked around.

In a flash her quick hands had grasped the stranger by their throat, shoving the stalker into the wall when her blade met their exposed neck and she demanded, “Who are you? Why are you following me?”

Unable to see her follower's face, she was shocked to feel a slight vibration against her hand when a flash of unmistakable blue enveloped her. His hands were on her, her dagger falling to the ground without a moment's notice, when his unforgiving hands had yanked her arms and had her now pinned to the wall. His breath was hot against her neck when she could make out his intense green eyes finally.

“Fenris,” she managed to breathe out, her body becoming all too warm in the cold night with him pressed up angrily against her. With the mention of his name, his tight grip on her arms softened and he leaned back as if awaking from a trance.

“Forgive me, I-” he spilled out, his usually calm and determined voice was now uncertain. “I wanted to see you home safe.”

“Why do you care?” she had asked without thinking, although she was genuinely curious. Fenris had been accompanying Hawke and her companions on various missions for a few months now and he had never cared before about her walking home alone.

“You are so young,” he muttered, a hint of discomfort in his deep voice. One of his slowly dimming hands rubbed the back of his neck and he looked down at his bare feet. 

“We both know I can walk myself home. I am terribly sorry if my age is so appalling but it never seemed to matter to you before. I'm perfectly capable,” she said, more than a little annoyed.

_Who is he anyway to be uncomfortable around me? I haven't done anything wrong except tell them of my age._

“That you are. I just wanted to see you safe,” he responded, tense voice calming and losing it's harsh edge. “Learning how young you are was just a surprise. I am seven years older than you, Hawke, and most of your companions are considerably older too.”

Hawke stood silent and studied him. His white, cropped hair clung to his tanned forehead and his breath was ragged and warm. He was staring at her too, she noticed, but still her gaze did not falter.

Her hand softly went to his cheek and he jumped in surprise, distinct green flickering to her eyes in shock. 

“Maker, you are so cold,” she noted and then pulled her hand back. He looked bewildered and confused at her but her gaze was soft and touch, gentle. Suddenly, this strange elf didn't seem so scary to her anymore. He cared about her safety and she cared about how cold he was.

“Come, we may as well finish the journey to my dearest Uncle's loving home,” Hawke broke the heavy silence with a smirk and beckoned him forward, picking up her fallen dagger and looking back to make sure he followed.

He shifted and then looked up to Hawke somewhat nervously but obliged and then walked in silence as the rain continued on relentlessly. It was only about another ten minute walk to the home and they were about two minutes away when a bolt of lightning struck about three feet from Hawke, the harsh white blinding her, the thunderous boom echoing off of the stone walls which knocked her backwards.

Hawke's body shook violently for a moment, unaware of the frantic hands on her alight with lyrium. She was soaked to her very core with her long, dark hair plastered awkwardly to her face and neck. Shivering into the hard gravel beneath her, heart hammering faster with every breath she took, she was scooped into strong and protective arms. Wanting to protest and stand on her own, she decided against it once a wave of unmistakable nausea hit her. She was suddenly so dizzy and so... weak. She was not herself and she hated it. However awkward and unusual it may have been, Hawke could not deny that being held by Fenris made her cheeks grow red and did strange things to her.

Fenris carried Hawke the rest of the way to Gamlen's in silence. She dared to peek up at him but his expression was indifferent and straightforward. Without care, Fenris tossed open the door and laid Hawke on the cheap, destroyed rug in front of a quickly dying fire. He added more kindling, quickly stoking the fire back to life.

Hawke was able to move now, nervously untying the laces to her boots and dark leather coat, desperate to rid herself of the sopping clothing that clung to every curve of her skin. Fenris was watching her fumble with the clasps to her leathers when he relented and undid them for her. Hawke watched his nimble fingers easily clutch at the clasp on her shoulder, all too aware of how close he was. She shimmied out of them and kicked them to dry in front of the fire leaving her in her simple, ivory cotton shift she wore under her armor. His eyes were transfixed as she wrung her long, dark brown hair out and combed her fingers through it. She felt his gaze but dared not meet his expression and instead spoke as if to the fire.

“You should stay. It's about an hour's walk from here to Hightown and I refuse to let you walk out in the dead of the night during a storm,” she spoke cautiously, somewhat guarded against his potential reaction, but smiled gently and assuredly at him. To validate her point, thunder ominously roared across Kirkwall while the rain turned to hail and pounded into the walls around them.

“That is reasonable,” Fenris responded, amused. His eyes grew wide staring down at her wrist and his brows furrowed.

“What is it?”

“Your wrist... There is a new scar,” he stated in surprise. Risking a glance down she found bright red, twisting vine-like marks forming a distinct shape of an F. The skin around it was scorched and red; apparently she was struck by the lightning after all. She had noticed fleeting pain but was too stunned and nervous to care until now. 

“Huh... It looks like an F. I guess I was struck by the lightning, I'm surprised I didn't notice until now. No wonder I was immobile,” she found herself lightly joking but his brows were still furrowed.

“That is an F?” he asked seriously. She looked confused but nodded nonetheless.

“Yes, I mean it looks like one. Do you only read Arcanum?” she asked seriously.

“I...” his voice trailed off and instead he said, “we should rest.”

Hawke let the subject drop and instead stood carefully before gaining her balance and fetching a thick blanket and a couple pillows from a corner designated for extra linens for the winter. She handed a pillow to him and without word, set the blanket next to his still armored body before taking her place by the fire again and curling into herself, old pillow barely providing support against the cold and hard wood floor.

She heard movement next to her, realizing Fenris was removing his armor and respectfully kept her distance. All the while, her heart was racing still from her near-death experience and the presence of Fenris in her home staying the night with her. She smiled to herself, still surprised in the first place that he was even here with her but so thankful.

She felt his body next to her but far from touching, and then the blanket was soon around the both of them. She shivered against it and sighed out, hearing a similar reaction from Fenris. Despite her racing heart, she was physically exhausted and soon succumbed to sleep when she felt Fenris's breath near her.

 

\---

 

Anders had his eyes fixed on Hawke every chance he could get. Fenris looked on and for reasons he could not fathom he was deeply bothered by it. The mage was clear of his affections for Hawke but she didn't seem to comment on it no matter how obvious it really was.

_A mage. Of course Hawke should want to be with a mage, she has been surrounded by them and supporting them her whole life._ The thought made Fenris scowl aloud, which caused Merrill to look up to him, concern written in her bright eyes.

“Is something the matter, Fenris?” Merrill asked him sincerely. It only made him scowl more.

“No, witch.”

That earned him a brief glare from Hawke which seemed to anger him even more. Merrill instead began walking ahead with Hawke, linking her arm with hers and commenting on how Feynriel will find a much better life with the Dalish.

They set up camp for the evening after having a run in with raiders, leaving the party annoyingly covered in gore. Merrill and Hawke set off to bathe with some soap and sleep clothes to a nearby stream while Fenris glared into the fire. He was still chewing on some dried fruit when Anders looked at him curiously.

“Why have you been fuming silently all day? You've barely said one word,” the mage noted, somewhat amused. Fenris growled.

“It's none of your concern, _mage_.”

“No, but you've been quite rude to Hawke. That is my concern,” he responded easily. With that, he faltered.

_I did not mean to be rude to her... She knows I don't deal with mage stuff easily so why would she bring me to Maker-damned Sundermount?_

“That is not my intention,” was all he said.

A shriek erupted into the night, bringing both Anders and Fenris to their feet.

“I'll go, stay and watch the camp,” Fenris ordered.

Without a second thought, Fenris had reached for his sword, bare feet expertly avoiding the tree roots, twigs, and sharp leaves as he followed the direction Hawke and Merrill had gone.

He heard splashing and laughter and stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the stream, hidden behind a wall of trees. Merrill was perched on the grass next to the water in her fresh nightclothes while Hawke was standing completely nude, half of her covered and immersed in the water.

Her long, wet hair hung low and clung to her body. Pale, Ferelden skin gleamed in the moonlight as she cupped water over her shoulders to remove the soap that lingered there. Her breasts were barely hidden behind long hair that fell over her shoulders and Fenris couldn't possibly look away. He heard Anders approach when he sucked in a sharp breath and exhaled slowly.

“Maker,” Anders breathed out, lust clear in his tone, which infuriated Fenris to his very core.

“Avert your eyes, _Abomination_ ,” he spat out though meaning to keep his voice quiet. Anders smirked and looked on once more at Hawke's beautiful, curvaceous body.

“Then maybe you should too,” he suggested with a laugh before Anders turned back toward camp. Red-faced and flustered, he followed to find Anders waiting by the fire.

“It is so very obvious how you feel about her,” Anders noted casually. Fenris glared at Anders, eyes burning into him.

“The same could be said about you.”

“Of course, Hawke is beautiful and kind. She cares about mages and freedom, she is passionate and determined,” Anders began and then added, “You are possessive. You care not for mages and let her know on a daily basis while seeming to forget who her family is. You are constantly brooding and glaring, I cannot see why you want her when she is so very different from you.”

Fenris felt his pulse rise, his blood boil. _Cocky, presumptious mage. He thinks he can have her, he thinks he has claim to Hawke._

“I do NOT have feelings for Hawke,” he was enraged and failed to notice the women approach camp. Anders looked past him at a newly clothed Hawke as she approached while Merrill looked about nervously. Fenris dared spare a look in _her_ direction and saw her expression change briefly. She was usually so lighthearted and confident. Instead now she just looked... disappointed.

She smiled, though it failed to reach her eyes and said, “You have nothing to worry about Fenris.”

Without giving him a chance to react, Anders was at his feet telling Hawke of some nearby herbs that could be useful for potions and salves. Merrill glanced in his direction before rolling out her bedroll and quickly falling asleep on the opposite side of Fenris across the fire. Fenris swallowed a hard lump in his throat and lay back against his bedroll. It was futile to attempt sleep now but he would pretend nonetheless.

_“-_ and you are always so very kind to me. I don't know what I would do without you, _Marian_ ,” Fenris heard Anders speak softly to Hawke. He grunted and tried to ignore Anders blatant flirtations to their leader but it angered him deeply.

He heard Hawke chuckle to herself and mutter something he couldn't hear.

“Maker, you are tempting,” Anders stated. Seething and infuriated, Fenris chanced a look behind him to see the mage brushing a strand of Hawke's still damp hair behind her ear. He felt his blood boil and he couldn't bear to see any more.

_Why do I even care? I have made it clear that I have no feelings for the rogue, she has every right to flirt with whomever she wants._

“Goodnight Anders,” Hawke said simply, loud enough for Fenris to hear and then to his surprise and with a hint of a smile in her voice she added, “and goodnight Fenris.”

 

\---

 

Fenris stood in his large, empty mansion he squatted in and found himself downing an entire bottle of wine. He was lonely, although he would never admit it to his companions. When he was not with Hawke on some odd quest, he was usually alone and drinking himself into a stupor. He saw no interest in being around others and could only stand being around Hawke and her abominable friends because she was nice to him. 

His ears perked at the sound of the creaky entrance door opening gently and then a call.

“Fenris?”

Her voice did something very strange to his heart. He felt the lyrium hum beneath his skin and to his surprise, it felt... pleasant. Usually his lyrium responding to stimuli brought on a dull ache more than anything.

“I'm here,” he found himself responding automatically.

She entered dressed in her form-fitting, dark leathers with her hair in a loose braid that fell over her left shoulder. She had a sack hanging over her arm, no doubt filled with supplies. When she saw him, her barely red-stained lips smiled and he almost, _almost_ found himself smiling back at her.

“So are you coming with us into the Deep Roads, or what?” Hawke asked with a wink, black and full lashes fluttering against her lid. He felt something in him stir and he shifted awkwardly.

“I thought your sister was going to accompany you instead?”

“Mother begged for Bethany to stay with her and besides, I need another warrior fighting beside me. Who better than my favorite broody elf?” she stated casually with a smirk. He scowled despite himself approving of Hawke enjoying his presence on the battlefield, and nodded.

“As you wish.”

 

\---

 

“Nug humping bastard!” Varric slammed his fist into the now sealed entrance where Bartrand had locked them in.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Merrill asked worriedly, turning to Hawke for answers. Hawke for the first time looked unsure of herself. Her large, deep brown eyes automatically flicked back and forth between Varric, Merrill, and Fenris standing to her for answers.

“We... find another way out, of course,” she stated as if it was obvious. “First, we make camp. Maker knows we need a rest after not sleeping for an entire day.”

“Varric, we won't die in here will we?” Merrill turned to the dwarf, her green eyes looked terrified.

“No Daisy, Hawke will get us out of here,” he assured her with a hint of a smile he couldn't quite make. No one had really seen Varric look so angry before but for Merrill, he was calm. He was her rock, protecting her from thugs in Lowtown and answering her naive questions.

They found themselves laying their bedrolls out and passing around a bottle of wine Fenris had brought in his pack of “necessities”.

“This is quite a necessity now, Broody,” Varric muttered.

“Wine is a top priority for our borderline alcoholic, elf,” Hawke answered playfully, seemingly desperate to keep the peace. Fenris glared his vibrant eyes at her and before she would have turned away, but now she defiantly stared back into his eyes, causing heat to rise to his tan cheeks.

“Well if we make it out of this, at least we will be rich,” Merrill perked up as she usually did and Hawke smiled brightly at her.

“I can finally buy back my ancestral home. Maker knows how desperate I am to never step foot near Gamlen's house again,” she responded with a shiver.

They all slept uneasily that night, especially Hawke. She was determined to get out of there but she didn't know how. It was now her responsibility to navigate the deep roads with next to no knowledge of Dwarven ruins.

 

Eventually, after engaging horde after horde of darkspawn in combat, supplies quickly draining within the week they spent searching for an exit out of the Maker-forsaken ruins, they found themselves facing an ancient rock wraith. Hawke had managed to become the monster's favorite ragdoll as it tossed her around the place with just a flick. She ignored the dull ache in her shoulders, knees and sides and continued attacking the creature.

Merrill was the true savior of the day, her furious spells bringing the thing to its knees. The crew all sighed with relief while Hawke fell forward and clutched at the side of her abdomen.

“Hawke!” Varric and Merrill shouted simultaneously rushing to her side. Her breaths were quick and broken, body shaking and hands desperately trying to hold back the blood that was now mercilessly pouring from her side.

Merrill ripped open the side of her leather in a fury and shouted for health poultices and lyrium potions. Hawke's eyelids began to droop as her pulse began to slow, not even noticing the surprising cool touch of someone's hands placing her head in their lap and pressing their palms to her cheeks.

 

_“Marian!” Carver called out to her, broad smile gleaming across the field. “Let's spar!”_

_She was walking toward him, no floating, and brushed her hands across the tall grass as she approached her brother._

_“Father says he will teach me now! Mama says he is good with a sword but I don't believe it because he is a mage.”_

_The sky above was light blue with thick clouds soaring across the sky at an alarmingly fast pace. The air felt heavy around her and she looked to the left to see her family's modest farmhouse with her Mama and Father standing in front, playing with Bethany._

_“Something isn't right, Carver,” she spoke but the words couldn't form. He cocked his head at her, confused. They were so young... She didn't remember being this young._

_“Carver?” she asked frantically, feeling a deep pain in her right side. “What's happening?!”_

 

“Carver, what's happening? Where's Papa?!”

“Sh,” a soft voice with a distinct and familiar accent soothed her. Unbelievable pain shocked her as she shifted and let out a desperate whimper.

“Where did Carver go?” she found herself asking.

“He's passed on, lethallan.”

Her heart stilled momentarily, memories flooding back to her. The ogre that gored Carver burned itself into her mind and she winced. Her eyes flashed open, seeing an uncharacteristically worried looking Fenris peering down at her from above, holding her head still in his lap. Merrill and Varric stood next to her.

Hawke took a deep breath, recognizing the cool air and realizing they were out of the Deep Roads.

“Maker, we survived?” she asked mostly to herself. Varric chuckled and nodded at her.

“You almost didn't you reckless rogue,” he replied lighthearted. She smiled despite the pain in her heart from the memories and her side from the injury.

“Please let's get out of here. I cannot wait to tell Bethany about our spoils,” she smiled at her crew and they helped her stand and supported her all the way back to Kirkwall.


	2. A Templar Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short chapter but I promise there will be more to come!  
> Song recommendation:  
> [Bonobo - Kiara](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7m86aMNjlQ)

“No!” Marian cried out to the towering, cruel Templars that stood in the doorway of their Uncle Gamlen's home. “I will not let you take her!”

She unsheathed her daggers, ignoring the deep throb in her side and stared them down, though significantly shorter than them she pierced her eyes fiercely at their unmarked helmets.

“It's okay, Marian,” Bethany protested.

“No, remember what Papa said,” she begged her sister. “I cannot let them take you away from us. I need you.”

Tears pooled in her big eyes and her sister resolutely accepting her fate, stood guarded and headstrong.

“Be strong Marian. I'll be okay.”

“I love you.”

She was gone. Her mother sobbed beside her as tears now spilled freely down Hawke's cheeks. She felt her mother shift and go silent.

“This is your fault. If you would have protected your sister-”

“You begged for her to stay. She would have been fine if you let her come with me,” Hawke interrupted, furious and broken. Without waiting for a response, she sheathed her daggers and darted out of the broken-down home.

Hawke cared not for her new wealth or for her deep wound barely healed at her side, she just ran. She ran past the Hanged Man where no doubt her companions were celebrating, ignoring her name called from her compassionate Dalish friend who stood outside.

She flew across the city, breaking through the entrance and retreating to the Wounded Coast. Almost on cue, raiders jumped at her but her anguish and frightening anger made the bandits no match for her. She cut them down in a quick flash of blades piercing through flesh bringing cries of pleading and begging into the night.

The sun had receded behind the sea and she fell soon to her knees once she reached the water. Hawke's cries gave way to the waves finally and she breathed deeply, burning in her lungs from the constant running. She screamed.

_Father, Carver, Bethany. I am alone._

 

\---

 

“She-she looked so distressed. She was crying and running away. I went to her Uncle's home to find out what happened. Bethany has been taken by the Templars,” Merrill explained, concern rooted deep in her voice. Anders stood from his seat in the tavern, furiously knocking his ale to the side. Varric, Isabela, and Aveline sighed while Fenris remained silent.

“What should we do?” she asked worriedly.

“We find her. If she was wounded and sprinted off she could be hurt,” Aveline stated, determined. Her brows were furrowed in concern; she had a deep respect for the Hawke family and cared for them as if they were her own kin.

Fenris felt even more worry than he did when he watched Hawke fall to her wounds in the Deep Roads. He knew he shouldn't be feeling this way, but she cared for him. She promised to help him fight Danarius when the time came. Hawke always kept her promises and she was very protective over those she loved. His heart ached to think of the torment she was in.

_Bethany was an apostate. Of course she belongs in the Circle._

His thoughts were contradicting with his feelings and he scowled to himself. He was so indecisive when it came to Hawke. He felt a sense of duty to her and he couldn't tell anyone really why. He knew he shouldn't care if Bethany was taken to the Circle but he certainly cared for Hawke's feelings for whatever reason.

He found himself searching in the night, eyes adjusting to the dark, and wound up at the Wounded Coast. Merrill and Varric had searched Lowtown and the Docks while Anders took to searching Darktown and its tunnels with Isabela and Aveline had the city guard search Hightown. About five minutes after walking along the Coast, he came across a pile of bodies laying about, no doubt raiders Hawke had come across. He pocketed what he could find on the corpses and peered along the coastline.

The sun was long gone into the sea while the full moon lit the surroundings adequately enough for him to make out a figure laying in the rising tide. A huddled body lay facing to the side while the not-so-gentle waves splashed across it. He approached cautiously, noting the unconscious figure was indeed Hawke. She was breathing, although strained, and her wound had opened at her side once again. He softly nudged her but she was unresponsive.

Fenris hesitated before carefully picking up her limp form from the wet sand and keeping her pressed up against him. He tried to ignore the cold shock of her wet clothes and rough sand against his armor and began walking back towards Kirkwall.

Holding Hawke so vulnerable like this reminded him of the time Hawke first caught him following her home just over six months ago. She had barely surpassed being struck by lightning and fainted in the shock. He remembered her damp, dark hair clinging to her face, her small smile and genuine interest in her eyes when they spoke, her concern over his safety walking back to Hightown alone.

_Maker, she will be the end of me._

He held her close, silently reveling in the feel of her body against his. He felt the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, watched her lids barely flicker as if she was stuck in a dream. If someone were to see his face now as he watched her, they would read him like an open book. His affections for the leader of their group were growing harder to hide but he knew he must keep silent.

They had been growing steadily closer, Fenris daring to barely smirk in her direction whenever she spoke to him. He had grown bold enough over the past few months that when they were in camp, the only two still alone, he told her of his old Master and life in Tevinter from what he could remember.

When he reached Lowtown, he found the group meeting together in front of the Hanged Man. As soon as he approached, Hawke's friends ran over in a panic and Anders shot him a horrified look.

“Give her to me, she needs to be examined,” he ordered Fenris.

The last thing he wanted was to let her go and he loathed the thought even more of handing her limp body to the _mage_. Expectantly, the group bore confused eyes at him when he hesitated. He relented and awkwardly shifted Hawke into the arms of the mage. Anders glared at him but then got to work.

They crowded into the Hanged Man and hurried to Isabela's room where there was enough room for her. Fenris seethed at the thought of Hawke inside Isabela's bed where Maker knows what has been in that thing but they had little choice. Varric's room would have sufficed if his bed wasn't fit for a short dwarf. She was placed on top of Isabela's covers when Anders quickly and carefully removed Hawke's armor and soaked boots, revealing her ivory shift Fenris had last seen ages ago.

“Normally I would have something to say about a barely legal, beautiful woman undressing in my bed but it just doesn't feel right with Hawke in the state she is,” Isabela's normally sultry voice said through the silence.

“Maybe you guys can give her some room for a bit and play Wicked Grace in Varric's suite or something,” Anders suggested. Fenris shot him a look and planted himself on a stool across the room.

“I'm staying,” Fenris stated, making clear his intentions of not moving.

“Broody, Anders is a healer let's just let him do his thing,” Varric suggested.

“ _I'm_. _Staying_.”

Varric held his hands up in surrender while he, Merrill, Aveline, and Isabela exited to go get a round of drinks to Varric's room.

“Make yourself helpful then if you insist on staying,” Anders said, annoyed. “Bring that basin of water and a rag. The wound needs to be cleaned out before I can heal it, it's been infected.”

He strode across and handed the basin with fresh water to the mage and tossed him a rag. Anders then pushed the shift up, above her legs and to her chest, revealing her long, pale, strong legs and smalls barely covering her. Her wound was oozing blood and clear liquid, though the sight didn't effect Fenris.

He watched the mage easily clear out the wound with the rag and water while his other hand glowed green, healing magic closing the wound and repairing the skin before his eyes.

“Why did you not come to me as soon as you returned? This could have been very serious,” Anders scolded. Fenris bit the inside of his cheek, trying to control his sudden rage at the mage.

“She was going to see you after greeting her family. Obviously plans changed.”

They said nothing for a while but soon Anders was standing and placing a blanket over the now peacefully sleeping Hawke.

“She will wake soon. Just in case she wakes up with a headache or nausea, give her this.” Anders placed an elfroot potion in the warrior's hand and then nodded before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

As soon as he was gone, he relaxed and brought the chair next to the bed where the beautiful rogue instead of the Pirate Queen slept. Her breathing had calmed and her full, black brows had relaxed finally. She looked to be at peace and for that Fenris was thankful to the healer.

_Do I really feel sympathy for a mage-lover?_

The candles danced with the wind pushing its way through the cracked window. The sound of cheers and laughter from below brought him back from his thoughts and he finally felt his heart slow and eyelids begin to sag.

They had spent almost a month inside of the Deep Roads and he hadn't had a good night of sleep in weeks. The turmoil of thinking Hawke had gotten herself killed had unknowingly made him even more weary and he shut his eyes and leaned back against the chair, arms folding over themselves as he lay his head against the uncomfortable back. Opening his eyes a final time, he watched Hawke's chest rise in a deep breath and her pink lips twitch before he succumbed to sleep.

“Fenris.”

His heart jumped in his chest and his eyes flickered open and around the room, candles now dimmed and air much cooler than before. The sounds of the tavern were quieter with the customers fleeing into the night.

“Hawke.”

They said nothing for a while but stared at each other instead. Her dark eyes poured into his emerald's and he shivered.

“Bethany's been taken,” she stated solemnly. He nodded. Her eyes shut and she turned away, face unable to hide the obvious pain.

“I...am sorry.”

Her eyes opened and glared at him unexpectedly. She surprised him when a hoarse, humorless laugh escaped and she rose, sitting up on the bed. Hawke clutched at her head, blinded momentarily by the sharp sting and Fenris automatically passed her the potion Anders had left for her. The cap was bitten off and spit out and she downed the thing as if she were in the middle of battle.

“Why would you care? Isn't this what you wanted anyway?”

He was not used to the anger in her voice, especially directed towards him. There was nothing he could say though because it was technically true. He cared for Hawke and her sister seemed nice enough but she was a mage. They belonged in the Circle where they could be monitored.

She then tried to stand, not waiting for his response and tripped if not for Fenris reaching and grasping her arm steady. She pushed his hand away and stood alone. He watched in silence, her shakily replacing her armor back on and sheathing her daggers.

“Will you go home?” Fenris asked seriously. She looked at him, eyes filled with annoyance and something like amusement but he could not comprehend.

“I will not. If by home you mean Gamlen's. My home was destroyed during the Blight.”

She pushed herself out of the door and Fenris jumped up after her.

“I will make you go home or you will stay here. You will not leave my sight until I know you are safe,” he demanded, eyes burning into hers. Hawke understood that this was not something she could argue against him.

“Fine. I'll be at Gamlen's. Tell the others for me please,” she spoke quietly then. He almost chuckled to himself.

_She cannot seriously think I'll let her walk back alone?_

“I will accompany you. No arguments.”

They walked off in silence but not before Fenris peaked his head into Varric's suite and told them what was going on. So they walked within arms length of each other into the cool night, his eyes barely kept off of her while she defiantly ignored his staring.


	3. Parties and Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song recommendation:  
> [Benjamin Francis Leftwich - Atlas Hands (Thomas Jack Remix)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VIofckGV70)

Hawke's new home was enormous compared to her modest Ferelden farmhouse and Uncle's tiny, dirty room they shared. Bodahn and Sandal had taken residence, offering their service to the household and its ladies in exchange for their help in the Deep Roads.

Every day Hawke was busy buying new furniture, cleaning abandoned rooms, buying groceries, and being fitted for noble gowns. Her mother, Leandra, was more than happy to once again be called “Lady Amell” and fit easily back into noble society. She was regularly attending afternoon tea gatherings and social events Hawke wouldn't be caught dead attending.

Three years later after returning from the Deep Roads, about to turn twenty-one, Marian Hawke was being shimmied into a dark red gown fit for a Hawke and having her long hair spun into loose waves. Her mouth was lightly painted red to match the gown and dark kohl was subtly smudged against her lids. Her mother happily dressed Marian up and invited all nobles, young and old, worth knowing and begrudgingly invited Hawke's friends.

Within minutes of finishing, guests dressed even more elaborately than the birthday girl piled into their mansion and began mingling and giggling. The hired musicians began playing a light tune and the Orlesian pastries and platters were elegantly laid out.

After about a couple hours of enduring meeting young, bachelor nobles that Leandra kept forcing on Hawke, she noticed her companions saunter their way through dressed more formal than usual. Isabela wore a tight-fitting, low-hanging dress in dark blue and carried in a big bottle of rum which she assumed was her present. Merrill followed after in a simple green, modest gown of the Dalish style with Anders and Varric at her side looking pretty much the same. Aveline surprised her the most, wearing a bright yellow, flattering gown and had her hair elaborately tied back in a bun. Fenris was... not there.

They all made a comment on how beautiful Hawke looked and embraced their friend, Anders maybe leaning in a little too long and keeping his eyes on her.

Isabela flirted with practically half of the guests, dancing with a group of young men while Merrill earnestly tried to dance with her, more Dalish and ritual than sexy which delighted Isabela even more. Varric and Aveline had taken to eating appetizers of cheese and fruits while Aveline nervously talked to a fellow guardsman, Donnic. Anders was with Hawke for almost the entirety of the evening. He stood beside her as Leandra introduced her to young men with the intent of making a successful match.

The truth was, despite the mirth of the nameday celebration, Hawke could not find it in her to enjoy herself. She felt Fenris's absence in the back of her mind for the majority of the evening. She put on a brave face though as she danced politely with nobles as they congratulated her and called her “Lady Marian”.

She found herself heading to the hired musicians and picked up a spare instrument, a beautiful cello and a bow and sat by the musicians who smiled in her presence. They encouraged her and soon she was playing a slow-paced melody from Ferelden that her father had taught her. Her fingers moved expertly as she found herself singing along, the crowd growing quiet to watch in surprise and awe.

Her voice was by no means trained but she found herself confident with her naturally talented voice and that was all that truly mattered. She had not played since her home was destroyed in the Blight and she lost her beloved instruments.

She remembered Malcolm Hawke sitting with her when she was only eight, placing her fingers on the strings to teach her the notes and how to create the beautiful sound with her bow. They had played fondly and practiced together up until he died when she was fifteen. The day he passed, she played a sad melody her father taught her long ago at his funeral. It was the last time she played for an audience.

Hawke's voice stopped and she let her fingers dance across the strings, bow held firmly in her other hand, letting the music control her. She was surprised to find it done, last solemn note ringing in the air and the crowd erupted into teary-eyed applause. Her long overdue blush covered her face, and she nervously bowed and smiled before placing the instrument back and hurrying away from the crowd.

She slammed into a hard, warm body and felt their arms reach out and steady her. Hawke's blush grew deeper when she looked up to find Fenris peering down at her, eyes dazzling with something she could not quite decipher.

“I did not know you were a musician,” he noted, unsure of what to say. She nodded and nervously took his hand and placed it back off of her arms. He then blushed, not realizing just how long he had been holding her there.

“I thought I left that part of me behind in Lothering.”

“I'm glad you didn't. It was beautiful... you are beautiful.”

Hawke's eyes darted back up to look into his and she saw then how genuine he was. It made her want to blush even more and she found herself entranced. She could not possibly leave his side again. Her night had now warped into something wonderful with him standing so near.

He wore clothes that were unusual for him, a formal, navy-colored suit that could still hold up in a fight. They covered his lyrium marked skin which disappointed her for some reason. Even his white hair was pushed to the side so she could see his eyes clearly.

“Thank you,” she finally answered, voice seemingly lost and quiet. He was addicting, she couldn't pull back from him. She _wanted_ to be lost in his gaze.

“My Lady Marian.”

A young, red-haired man of obvious nobility was standing to the side of them. His eyes were darting between Hawke and Fenris and staring down at her hungrily.

“Ser,” she responded politely.

“You are a talented musician. It is nice to see you are so equipped in woman's arts,” he noted to her, his tone condescending and confident. “And might I say, even your servants look well put together.”

On impulse, Hawke reached out for Fenris's wrist before he could do anything but bare his teeth in an almost feral snarl.

“He is not my servant, he is my friend, Ser. I am glad you enjoyed my performance,” she answered diplomatically, hand still wrapped around Fenris's wrist, restraining and yet somewhat reassuring.

“I'm guessing you have many woman's talents. It is very important for a woman to be trained in the arts and the bedroom.”

It was now obvious how drunk the noble was and she gripped Fenris tighter, pleading eyes darting to his. She needed this to remain pleasant or her mother would never let her hear the end of it. Though she had to admit herself her patience was wearing extremely thin. 

“That is not an appropriate remark, Ser,” was all she was able to muster. She felt the warrior elf shift and clench his fists tightly. His arm beginning to vibrate, no doubt the lyrium singing in response under his clothes.

“Isabela!” Hawke noticed her friend heading her way toward them, flashing her a truly grateful smile. “Come now, you must meet this, Ser... um.”

“Ser Harold,” he spat out, dignified.

“Yes, I believe he was had a bit too much wine. Maybe you can mingle!” Hawke suggested and her friend gave her a knowing look and grinned up to the stuck-up noble. She pulled Fenris out of the crowd to avoid hearing anything else the entitled man had to say and finally released his wrist which had grown somewhat clammy in frustration.

“I'm sorry,” she said to him, his demeanor calming.

“Don't apologize for that fool,” he said through clenched teeth. She poured some wine into a glass and passed it to her companion who gratefully took it. In just a couple gulps, his wine glass was now empty but she said nothing before she refilled it for him.

“I would suggest just taking the bottle but I don't believe Mother's noble guests would very much approve,” she shot him a smile and he relaxed a bit.

“The glass can suffice. I should learn to pace my drinking anyway.”

She eyed him curiously and bit her lip nervously.

“Ser Fenris, I do believe you should offer a lady a dance!” she said with a mock Orlesian accent and he briefly smirked to himself, looking down at the floor at his bare elven feet.

“I...don't dance.”

She nodded understandingly and began sipping carefully from her own glass of wine, eyeing the platters of Orlesian pastries, cheeses, and fruits.

“Then eat with me. You don't eat enough Fenris, even you have to admit you live on wine.”

Before he could respond, she was stacking a plate with a slice of chocolate pie, a handful of lightly sugared berries, and a few cubes of cheddar cheese with a sliver of crusty bread. She eagerly passed him the plate with silverware and motioned him to a table set out for the occasion.

“Thank you.”

His tone was much lighter now, she could even dare say it was almost joyful which was a most pleasant surprise. So they sat together at their little table, an almost hidden getaway from the merry party, sharing the slice of chocolate pie (which was one of Hawke's favorites).

“-and while we ran from the angry smithy, Carver with his famously terrible luck, plunged his foot directly into a fallen bees nest!”

Fenris let himself chuckle at Hawke's stories from her time in Lothering and he indulged in hearing her speak fondly of them. There was a part of him that ached for a childhood long since forgotten. He wondered how long he had been a slave to Danarius or if he got to enjoy a childhood with a family he couldn't remember.

“You miss Ferelden,” he stated simply. Hawke made it clear from time to time, seemingly getting lost in her memories.

“Yes... I do.”

“I'm sorry about your brother.”

Fenris's tone became suddenly sincere, almost startling Hawke. She studied his face: two distinct lyrium lines running down his tanned skin from his chin, strong bone structure and vibrant, deep green eyes defined his appearance that made him so... Fenris.

“You probably would have liked him. No, actually you might not have. He was a Hawke, and most terribly sarcastic. Although he was much more serious like my mother. He was not a big fan of mages either but I like to think he'd protect his family,” her words spilled out, she swallowed a hard lump in her throat.

“You Hawkes are a decent lot. Sarcasm and all.”

She beamed at him and suddenly a throat clearing caught her attention. Anders stood to the side of their table examining them and when she looked to him he politely smiled.

“Your mother is looking for you, she says you need to get some cake or something.”

“Thank you Anders.”

Anders shot Fenris an odd look but he reveled in the feeling. He knew Anders was jealous of Hawke dedicating her time to Fenris instead of himself. So he remained in his seat, glancing up at the mage's unhappy expression before raising his wine glass in acknowledgment and downing the rest. 

 

\---

 

After speaking with the Arishok about why he wouldn't leave, Hawke was tense and uneasy. She parted ways with Anders, Aveline, and Varric and headed towards Fenris's Hightown estate that he squatted in.

The chant of merchants pouring through the streets, knowing Hawke to be a wealthy “noble” filled her ears and she darted away from eager businessmen looking to sell her their products. The streets smelled of rotten food and sewage and she remembered just how grateful she was to have gotten herself out of Lowtown. She only wished Bethany were there with her.

As she climbed the countless steps to Hightown, she thought of her sister in the Circle. Three years ago the Templars had taken her and not a day has gone by without her feeling her sister's absence. Marian pledged herself to Anders's cause with the mage underground in the hope that her sister would flee and rejoin her family where she belonged. Correspondence was minimal if at all. She had tried to get messages to Bethany but she rarely heard back. Apparently she fared well within the Circle. She was a staunch supporter for mage rights and freedom yet she stayed knowing her sister could find a way to get her out. Hawke could never understand. She just wanted her sister to come home.

Finally she reached Danarius's old rundown mansion with dead vines hanging low above the entrance and a shattered window in plain view. She always did wonder just how Aveline was able to keep Fenris here rent free and in this state. It was dusk when she rapped on his door to warn him and entered anyway. She knew he always kept it unlocked just for her. No one dared sneak into this place for the rumors of the scary warrior elf that could rip out hearts kept the thieves at bay.

“Fenris?”

She called out to him and hopped up the steps, two at a time before almost slamming into his chest. Stunned, he kept strong hold on his bottles of wine and his expression turned playful.

“This isn't the first time my presence has almost swept you off of your feet.”

Hawke laughed wholeheartedly and shook her head.

“Fenris, you can sweep me off my feet any day,” she was joking but there was a hint of truth to it but before she could blush she asked, “Are those bottles for me?”

She saw Isabela then, a flash of something akin to jealousy ran through her veins. She walked past Hawke with a wink and then exited the mansion swiftly.

“I have yet to see Isabela be swept off her feet by anyone but for you, I wouldn't be surprised,” her small smile was kind yet somewhat sad. Hawke realized she was far past the point of no return and was now openly flirting with the elf.

She looked back up to see Fenris chuckling and beckoning her to follow him into his quarters where they usually sat close to the fire. The mansion got very cold during the night since the many rooms were mostly ignored by Fenris. She was pretty sure he hadn't even cleared out the bodies from the first fight that got him into this place.

They sat across from each other when Fenris popped open a bottle and took a large swig of wine before passing her the bottle directly.

“What, no glass? I am a lady now!” she exclaimed sarcastically before taking a big sip herself to assure him she was talking in jest.

“I am sorry to disappoint you, my Lady,” his tone was playful and his body was much more relaxed than usual. No doubt he and Isabela had already been drinking.

“You don't have to call me that, Fennie.”

He glared up at her, an un-amused expression darkening his face and she giggled. His stern stare made her laugh more.

“And you don't have to call me _Fennie_.”

She pouted and took another swig from the bottle before passing it back.

“So, Hawke then?” he asked seriously. She shrugged in response and smiled.

“I have a given name too.”

“Marian.”

“Yes... Marian. Although it almost doesn't feel suitable, does it?” she admitted.

“It sounds more intimate,” he noted, almost immediately regretting it. A light pink blush dusted her pale cheeks and his heart fluttered in response.

“Well if Marian is too intimate, Hawke it is,” she settled. “It just sounds so masculine.”

“I thought that's what you liked?”

She stared at him confused and then understanding flooded her and her face grew red immediately.

_He sees me as masculine?!_

“I am masculine to you then?” she tried to put it playfully but there was a note of genuine hurt behind it. His brows furrowed and then his eyes went wide and he flustered.

“Maker, no! I just mean you, um, you don't go around wearing gowns and... stuff.”

“Bit hard to fight slavers and Tal Vashoth in gowns, don't ya think?”

“Yes it is logical...I apologize.”

“Believe it or not, I enjoy feeling feminine every once in a while. I like the gowns and dresses, the kohl and lip paint. I don't like the shoes though. Still, feeling feminine is important to me and the same goes for Aveline. She kicks ass but she still takes time after her duties to feel pretty,” Hawke found herself explaining although it felt silly. His expression shifted and she noticed he was thinking of something intently.

“I remember the way you shined like a beacon at your nameday celebration. I like it too... but seeing you sport blood-stained leathers and fearsome daggers is appealing too.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

She didn't realize how fast she was breathing. He was leaning in towards her and she was perched on the edge of the chair, unknowingly leaning towards him in response.

“It's been three years and still no sign of Danarius,” she was thankful he changed the subject and she looked up at him earnestly listening.

“You know I will stand with you no matter what,” she interjected and his dark brows rose in surprise and his eyes were full of meaning and something she couldn't read.

“I appreciate that, Hawke.”

“Anytime, Fennie.”

He rolled his eyes at her before they returned serious.

“You could always make a home here in Kirkwall. Your brooding really grew on us,” _on me_ is what she really wanted to say.

“I could see myself staying... for the right reasons.”

Her cheeks flushed again. She groaned internally at herself. For a rogue, she made a poor one. People could read her face like an open book when she always blushed so fiercely.

“You would build a life here?” she asked instead of trying to poorly hide her embarrassment.

“I do not remember a life before I received these markings. The person I was before I became a slave has been wiped from my memories. Fenris was the name Danarius gave me... his 'little wolf',” he admitted to her and then cringed at himself. “These are not your problems.”

“I could help Fenris,” her determination surprised even her and her pulse rapidly increased.

“You are a beautiful woman, Hawke. Is there no one else?”

She paused for a moment, almost entirely in disbelief that the conversation was even happening in the first place.

“Do you see anyone else here?” she breathed out, gaze transfixed into his jade eyes in awe.

“I am an escaped slave and an elf living in a borrowed mansion. That doesn't bother you?” he looked deeply into her and she couldn't falter, could not look away.

“Should they? I'm a Blight refugee, mage sympathizer, remember?” she reminded him. He smirked.

“You have me there.”

She couldn't contain the grin on her face and suddenly remembered the reason for her visit. She looked away and shuffled through her pack next to her feet.

“I um, I have something for you.”

He quirked a brow but said nothing when she stood and passed him a book.

“It's a...book.”

“Observant as always,” she remarked sarcastically but then her voice turned serious, “it's written by Shartan. He was the man who helped Andraste free the slaves.”

“I know little of him but... slaves are not permitted to read,” he admitted. It was now his turn for his cheeks to redden and her heart seemed to jump sympathetically.

“You cannot read?”

“No.”

“Please let me teach you. I have plenty of free time you know, when I'm not helping random Kirkwall citizens finding lost items,” her tone was lighthearted but the intent was genuine. He smiled at her then.

“I...Okay,” he said at a loss for words and she beamed.

“Oh, great! Maker, good timing too I just picked up some new stationary in the market today,” she exclaimed, rummaging through her pack once more, pulling out a new quill, a pot of sealed ink and a stack of blank vellum. He watched her as she scooted her chair directly next to his and laid the supplies on the table before them.

 

\---

 

“See now, this is how you write the letter 'F',” she demonstrated slowly and carefully on the paper. He watched closely, recognition spreading through him.

“Let me see your scar,” he demanded suddenly.

“You'll have to be more specific than that, we get in an awful lot of brawls and battles you know,” she was nervous.

“The one from when you were struck by lightning.”

She quickly rolled up her sleeve with no protest, revealing on her right wrist a faded, white intricate scar that appeared more like a work of art rather than a scar. It formed a distinct and formal letter 'F' and he exhaled.

“I'm surprised you remembered.”

He noted her breathless voice and took her wrist in his hand. He traced his thumb over the scar, feeling her quick pulse under the milky skin. Her breath caught as he smoothed his finger closer and he felt the sudden urge to raise it to his mouth and kiss it. Fenris softly dropped her wrist and took the quill in hand before mimicking the letter that was now etched forever in his memory.

“Yes... That's it. 'F' for Fenris.”

He looked back to Hawke sharply, seeing a look of deep longing in her warm, dark eyes.

_She cannot want me... No one wants me. Only Danarius wanted me. A worthless slave..._

He shuddered at the memory of Danarius touching him, coaxing his former self into submitting to his depraved will.

“Fenris, what's wrong?”

Hawke was looking at him, concern overtaking her once longing expression and he fought himself to look away.

“Nothing.” She didn't believe him, he could see that. “Please show me more.”

He heard not one more argument from Marian, and she reverted back to teacher. She showed him how to write the letters of the alphabet and had him practice several times before scrawling notes for him to understand when she wasn't around him. She showed him how to pronounce the letters and how they formed words. Although progress was slowly beginning Fenris began to feel a deep sense of pride.

It was late into the night, around four in the morning when she realized she had to leave.

“I may be a hero to some but my mother cares not. I'm sure I'll get a lecture about being reckless and unworthy of marriage for staying out so late into the night.”

He watched her stand and immediately followed.

“A fool would think you unworthy of anything,” he said, almost offended that someone could think Hawke could be seen as unworthy. “I'll walk you home.”

She smiled at him, just as she always did. Her smile always did strange things to his heart and he couldn't dismiss that fact.

They walked in silence, their bodies close but not quite touching, the whole ten minute walk to her ancestral estate.

“Thank you... for teaching me.”

He was speaking to her sincerely once they reached her door. He was entranced, he couldn't move. His bare feet felt rooted deep in the ground. How could he walk away from her? How could he ever be apart from her?

"Don't think we're done here. You have much to learn and whenever you wish, I will put time aside for you," Hawke began. “Fenris, I am more than happy to help. I enjoy your company. Thank you for putting up with me in your home.”

_Please, Maker, bring this woman into my home every day._

“You are always welcome. I look forward to _our_ lessons." 

She smiled to him and to his surprise, she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek lightly. Her soft lips lingered against his hot skin despite the cool night before she stood back down and entered her house with a farewell on her lips. He was hers. He knew he was and it scared him to his core.

 


	4. Baby Crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Recommendation:  
> [Vallis Alps - Young](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoZPVMEsbeQ)

Hawke had spent the day in Anders clinic, running around attending to patients' immediate needs such as providing water and blankets. Anders was grateful for the help as always which left Hawke in awe because Anders did so much. From dawn until the dead of night he worked, barely stopping to eat just to sustain his energy. Hawke and Merrill had noticed his increasingly apparent fatigue so they had taken it upon themselves to assist wherever they could. Merrill would help make poultices, potions, salves, and lotions while Hawke would wait on the patients all day.

When the clinic finally grew quiet, Hawke was cradling an infant that had been treated for a disease. The baby whimpered into Hawke's dark, thick braid and she cooed gently, rocking the baby against her while murmuring a Ferelden lullaby she remembered her father singing to her.

She hadn't realized she was being watched until a throat cleared itself from behind her. At the entrance Fenris, Aveline, and Varric stood expectantly and she smiled at her companions.

“You are a natural, Hawke. I cannot say I expected that, you know with you being so deadly and all,” Varric stated, surprise evident in his voice. Aveline was smiling beside him, looking sweetly to the infant. Fenris was looking at Hawke, his expression unreadable. She felt his stare unfaltering though and it made her shift, worried she had done something to upset him.

“The baby's mother is dead. She just succumbed,” Anders sighed to the side stepping from behind a screen where the woman was being treated for a disease that was spreading rapidly through Darktown.

“Maker no,” Hawke let out a gasp and as if on cue the baby began to wail, realizing its mother was gone. She felt tears sting her eyes, but instead she turned the baby away from the mother and began to rock her against her chest again.

“Sh, little one,” she cooed to the baby, wails beginning to decrease as it's big, brown eyes bore into Hawke's. The baby reached out a tiny hand and Hawke placed one of her fingers there for the baby to hold.

“Anders, what do you do with orphans?” she whispered to the mage beside her, his amber eyes staring intently at Hawke caring for the baby.

“I can take the baby tomorrow morning and bring it to the Orphanage,” Aveline suggested.

“And tonight?” she asked her good friend. Aveline shrugged sympathetically.

“I'll help you care for her, Hawke,” she heard Anders say. “That baby hasn't quieted for anyone else. If you stay with her tonight I'm sure she'll be okay.”

For some reason she looked to Fenris who was undoubtedly furious, glaring at Anders for even suggesting the notion.

Marian felt the baby squeeze her finger and she looked down to find it smiling up at her. She forgot the others and smiled back at the baby girl lovingly. This was doing... odd things to her heart. She was nowhere near ready to have children, she was only twenty-one, and yet this felt so sweet that she could hardly deny that.

“Okay Anders, we'll watch her until Aveline can get her,” she found herself responding. Anders walked over and stood by Hawke's side, looking down at the smiling, sleepy baby.

“This is too sweet, you two look like a family,” Varric was smiling at them. She noticed Fenris fume silently and Anders looked down at her with pride in his eyes.

“Sorry guys, tomorrow night we'll take care of our mission.”

She apologized before they all smiled back at her, save Fenris, and left understanding.

“Come, we'll take the passage to my estate. Mother will be happy to have another baby in the house. She has been practically begging me to marry and give her grandchildren so this might ether shut her up for or fuel her baby-crazy fire,” Hawke looked up to Anders with a smirk but he was already beaming at her.

They walked side by side through the cramped tunnel, baby resting carefully against Hawke's shoulder when they finally approached the cellar door to her estate. When they entered, they found Bodahn and Mother awaiting her for dinner.

Leandra Hawke's mouth dropped at the sight of the baby in astonishment while Bodahn looked confused and Sandal cried out, “Babies!”

“Aveline is coming to take her to the Orphanage tomorrow. It's mother died in Anders's clinic so we'll be taking care of her tonight,” Hawke explained. Her mother seemed to ignore her and went straight for the baby, taking it into her arms and smiling down at it.

“Oh Marian, look at her eyes. You had eyes just like this when you were born.”

Anders never lost his smile and they were soon led to the dining table where a meal of roasted meat and vegetables was laid out with wine and Marian's favorite chocolate pie waiting for them afterwards. The baby sat perched on her hip at the dinner table while she spoon fed her some mushed bananas. Anders sat beside Marian and talked extensively with Bodahn about Ferelden and their mutual friendship with the Hero of Ferelden, Kallian Tabris.

“-Yes she was so fond of that boy, who was he?” Bodahn paused.

“Alistair? _The King of Ferelden_?” Anders laughed and Bodahn nodded excitedly.

“Word is out there that they remain side by side in Denerim now. He still hasn't married anyone else, he was always so devoted to her.”

“That's so sickeningly sweet,” Hawke had chimed in and Anders laughed.

They spent the remainder of the evening playing with the baby who loved tugging at Anders blond locks and feather coat he was so fond of.

“Have you thought of ever having children?” Anders mused, somewhat cautiously. She raised an eyebrow in response before turning back to the infant crawling around the floor back and forth between their legs.

“Maybe someday. I'm awfully busy getting into fights around Kirkwall.”

“Well I want them... one day. I probably cannot ever have them though seeing as I'm a Warden. I'm getting older, Marian. My calling will probably come within fifteen to twenty years seeing as I'm already twenty-nine,” Anders tone grew solemn and thoughtful.

“That seems so soon.”

She looked up at him and he seemed to regain composure and grinned back down at the baby.

“For now I care for my patients and that is okay with me.”

Marian reached a hand over and squeezed his, a gesture meant to be reassuring and gentle. He looked up at her surprised to find a small, sympathetic smile on her lips.

“Even now your compassion still surprises me after almost four years in your presence.”

They fell asleep huddled across from each other on the floor, baby resting against Hawke's chest, its breathing falling in rhythm to Hawke's heartbeat.  

 

\---

 

Hawke had been pretty upset to see the baby go when Aveline arrived in the morning. She had even let a few tears fall to Anders and Aveline's surprise. Leandra watched her daughter affectionately and approached her in her study. Marian was skimming through a book about the horrors of the Exalted March when her mother entered and sat beside her daughter on the chaise. 

“Marian, I want you to know that there really is no rush to get married and have children. I know I have been pushing suitors on you but the truth is I want you to fall in love. Whenever that comes I will be happy,” Leandra was stroking Marian's thick, dark hair with one hand and looking at her lovingly. “I see the way Anders and that elf look at you.”

“His name is Fenris.”

“And now I know who your heart is set on,” Leandra teased. Marian scoffed and shut the book before placing it on the table in front of them.

“You do not approve?” Marian asked, almost certain her mother would be unhappy. Instead Leandra Amell just laughed and kissed her daughter's hair.

“Dear, I ran off and married an apostate and was disowned for it. I have no right to judge matters of the heart. Whether you fall in love with a wealthy noble or a scary tattooed elf, I will support you no matter what.”

Marian looked up surprised with her mother and smiled fondly at her.

“Mother-”

“I still want grandchildren someday though. You are a Maker-blessed natural with children, even you can admit that.”

She rolled her eyes with a smirk on her face when her mother brushed her hair away from her face and murmured, "I love you, Marian." 

 

\---

 

There was a startlingly loud thud and crash from behind when Hawke darted around. Fenris stood at the door to the entrance of her study, wide-eyed and embarrassed after knocking over a stack of books. She couldn't suppress a surprised chuckle and he rolled his eyes.

"Hello, Fennie," she greeted playfully, watching as he bent at the knee shuffling books into his arms. 

"I believe you know how I feel about that name," he groaned, gently placing the books on top of the desk. 

"Yes, but isn't it just cute?" 

He turned then, a fire in his mossy eyes, and thudded across the room to her. She barely had a moment to register her thoughts before he approached, backing her into the wall next to the fireplace. 

"Do I look cute to you?" he hissed. Hearing him speak so dark and voice thick like honey, she felt her knees grow weak. She was stuck, eyes locked into place with his as the world around them vanished. 

"...Yes?" she squeaked. One of his arms shot out, lyrium flashing through, pinning her shoulder back and he leaned in closer. 

_Maker, help me._

"What about now?" he spoke barely above a whisper. 

_You are perfect, sexy. Maker knows I need you._

"Am I supposed to tell you how scary you are?" she breathed so quietly she almost doubted he heard. He nodded. "What's the fun in telling you what you want to hear?"

He frowned, fingers digging into her shoulder. Why couldn't she just shut up? 

"You are a scary, terrifying warrior," she relented.  _No, what terrifies me is my lack of self control around you._

His hand fell and he stepped back, a victorious grin now playing on his soft lips. She felt the loss of his touch and was aching. In a matter of seconds, he had turned her into a flustered mess before him. 

"That is what I like to hear."

"Yeah, but still kind of cute," she couldn't help herself. Before he could turn back to intimidate her any longer, she had ducked away and grabbed a nearby pillow from a chair, tossing into his face. Her laughter filled the room and he let out a small smile before he could help himself. 

"Now then, my student, I believe you have some homework to show me. Let's get back to work!" she was still grinning mischievously before he joined her at the sofa next to the table laid out with their supply of ink, quill, and vellum. 

He became focused, showing her the paper where he correctly wrote the alphabet and the names of his friends. She gave him a proud smile and he looked away shyly with a grin himself. 

_Now he knows I think he's cute..._

"So what happened to the child you cared for?" he asked, breaking her from her trance. 

"Aveline picked her up this morning. I gave some coin to her to put away for the child when she grows up," she explained, somewhat cautiously. Hawke remembered the way Fenris looked seeing her holding the baby. 

"Really?" he asked, somewhat stunned. 

She cocked her black brow and asked, "Is that really so surprising?" 

He shook his head, "No actually, not from you. Why did you care?" 

"Her mother died, she was newly orphaned. I felt sorry for her." 

"You cared for that child," he stated simply. She shrugged lightheartedly. 

"I suppose I did. I had been watching the baby all day when Anders tried to treat her mother," she didn't even understand why she was explaining herself to him. He had absolutely no reason to care. 

"That's... admirable. That you care for so many so easily," he spoke slowly, as if trying to find the right words to say to her. 

Surprised and confused, she asked, "You think so? You looked pretty grumpy last night when you saw me holding her." 

His green eyes immediately fell to the floor and he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I wasn't upset with you. I apologize if you thought that. Being around the mage makes me... uneasy." 

"It's okay, I don't blame you. Anders is well meaning though, he cares for his patients very much," she defended her friend. He looked back to her knowingly then, with a humorless expression. 

"You are a fool to not see how much he wants you," he sounded strained, guarded, and somewhat angry. She scoffed. 

"Well, I don't think that's true, he's my friend and I trust him. Even if it were, I have no feelings for him in that way," she tried assuring him. 

 _I have feelings for another, you gorgeous idiot._  

"Since when did you care about my love life, Fenris?" she mused with a playful grin. His eyes were wide once more, flustered. 

"I-I just don't trust him," he defended himself quickly. 

She smirked at him and turned back to the work lying on the table before them. "Okay, Fennie." 


	5. May She Rot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song recommendation:  
> [Dan Croll - Sweet Disarray](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFrWN5xgK2c)

Hawke knew this much about the mysterious alleged killer: he kidnapped only women, and left white lilies for his victims. Gascard DuPuis sliced open his wrists then after Hawke had tried to reason with the crazed man. Shades and more abominations were summoned and she scowled.

“Of course you're a blood mage,” she muttered under her breath.

She unsheathed her twin blades and fell in step with Fenris beside her, striking at the creatures left and right while Anders and Varric struck with arrows and flames from behind. Blood and gore spilled from all around them while the blood mage began to retreat.

One of Varric's arrows pierced the mage through the heart and he fell immediately.

“Thanks Varric,” she called behind her. Hawke carefully pulled a cloth out and wiped the blood from her face and then the blades clean before sliding them into place on her back.

“Thank you,” the girl, Alessa, cried to them. She gave a sympathetic nod and watched the girl run from them outside back into Kirkwall.

“ _Mages_. This is what you can eventually expect from a mage left unchecked.”

“Oh will you-”

“Boys!” Hawke hissed out and glared at Fenris.

“This is no time for debate. I don't know if he was the killer but it's not like we could reason with this guy. There could be more women in danger. I'll go report to Aveline,” she explained, tone calm but her demeanor off for some weird reason. Something wasn't right and she couldn't pinpoint it. It began to frustrate her and she left the mansion and headed to the Viscount's Keep by herself.

The bright sun was baring down hard into the Hightown streets. The stone beneath her feet was hot in itself. She couldn't possibly understand how Fenris could stand to be barefoot in Kirkwall at all, especially during this heat.

She found Aveline immediately and caught her up on the situation but before she could head home she found herself trapped in another mission taking her to the Wounded Coast. Varric bailed, stating he had business with Merrill which usually meant he was off to hire more security for her or keep an eye on her. 

She, Aveline, Fenris, and Anders found themselves heading out to find some raiders when a voice boomed from above them.

“Stop right there. You are in possession of stolen _property_. Back away from the slave now and you'll be spared.”

Hawke glared up at the hunter standing on the rock formation above them. She had promised Fenris to help him no matter what and there was no chance she could ever let them near him. “Fenris is a free man!”

“I said back away from the slave!” the hunter ordered but Hawke bared her teeth in a terrifying grin and glanced at Fenris.

“I am _not_ your slave!” he cried out, lyrium roaring powerfully in his skin.

Daggers bared, swords raised, and staff already firing out in a fury, the slavers would be no match for them.

Hawke fought like a demon on the battlefield. Slavers went down like sheep sent for the slaughter when she neared them and it gave her a satisfying thrill. She never really enjoyed killing until she met truly evil people. Bandits and Carta thugs were in the business for money and usually down on their luck but slavers were different. These monsters kidnapped people from their families and homes to live their life in servitude. Killing slavers made Hawke feel just plain giddy.

Fenris was kneeling before a slaver who pleaded for their life. They mentioned something about a woman nearby called Hadriana and that they could show them.

“No need,” was Fenris's response before snapping the man's neck.

“Hadriana!” he spat. He went on to explain Hadriana as Danarius's pet who doted on him and was located in the old slave holding caves nearby. Hawke immediately insisted upon stopping them and urged Fenris to lead the way. When they approached the cave Fenris stopped her, the anger momentarily leaving his expression.

“Be careful,” he had told her, his rage subsiding for a short moment when his eyes met hers. She had nodded, dumbstruck by his attention and heard a scowl beside her where Anders was glaring with his arms folded over each other. 

"Let's get this over with," he yawned. 

Inside of the caves, they were met with Tevinter slavers that they easily cut down. They found a mess of blood spattered around the area and the bodies of dead slaves cut open and thrown carelessly into a pile. Beside the pile, was a shaking elven woman holding the hand of one of the corpses.

“Are you hurt? Did they touch you?” It was Fenris speaking instead which surprised her.

“They cut Papa, they bled him...” the blonde-haired elf spoke nervously, her startled eyes glancing up at the group.

"You're going to be okay now, I promise," Hawke leaned down cautiously, taking the elf's hand and moving her to stand. 

"What will I do, where will I go?" she asked the rogue and then turned back to Fenris. "Are you my Master now?" 

"No!" Fenris insisted, horrified. The woman began to cry then, weeping into her small hands and shaking. 

"But I am a good slave! I promise, I can cook and clean. I even play the lute!" she sobbed, tear-streaked face darting back to Hawke, anxiously. 

Marian sighed heavily and shrugged. "Get out of this place and find the Hawke estate in Kirkwall. My mother will feed you and give you what you need." 

In the end, Hawke had offered the woman known as Orana a job at her estate and they soon set off to find the magister.

They sliced through halls and rooms of shades and abominations summoned by Hadriana and before long Fenris had the woman backed into a corner, hands pleading and begging for her life.

“You have a sister. She is alive.”

“Fenris, she could be lying,” Hawke said suspiciously eyeing Hadriana. The magister glared at her then, icy eyes piercing into her warm ones. “It is your call.”

His sister's name was Varania and she was a servant to a man named Ahriman. That was all the information Fenris needed to know before his glowing, lyrium-infused hand found Hadriana's heart.

“We are done here.”

His voice sounded hoarse and tired, yet still angry. He looked almost defeated despite killing someone whom he hated.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, very carefully yet concerned.

“No! I do not wish to _talk_ about it,” he growled at her. “This could be a trap. Danarius could have sent her here to tell me about this 'sister'. Even if he didn't, trying to find her would still be suicide.”

His furious face was a few mere inches apart from hers and she sucked in a breath nervously. He was visibly shaking with anger and reluctance.

“-may she rot and all the other mages with her.”

Hawke's head fell as he stepped away.

“I'm sorry Fenris. Maybe we should go,” she suggested, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. His shoulder flinched violently, knocking her hand back and he turned back, jade eyes furiously baring into hers. 

"Do not comfort me," he growled low in his throat and she took an anxious step back, standing with her friends who looked just as uncomfortable. 

_He just needs space, this has been a hard day for him._

“You saw what was done here. There's always some excuse why mages have to do this. Who knows what the magisters have done to my sister if she even exists? What does magic touch that it doesn't spoil?” his words were venom. He knew of her beloved father and sister being mages and he knew she would do anything to protect her “mage” family. Apparently she too, was spoilt. She watched him leave with a heavy heart. Anders and Aveline were soon at her side, gentle hands on her shoulders and urging her to leave this Maker-forsaken cave.

Marian waded through the dead bodies and ignored the throbbing of her head. She knew Fenris wasn't speaking in earnest and was just angry. His past was a very delicate part of him that she wished she could understand. She just wanted to help him more than anything; Fenris had to have known of her feelings for him. Some small part of her felt that he may want her too. No matter what, she had to just move on and vowed to speak with him later.

 

\---

 

A week later, Marian gathered the courage to visit Fenris in his mansion. She tapped lightly at the door and called out his name but no answer responded. She walked up the stairs past the drapery torn from the windows, ragged rugs stained with dried blood, and shattered glass laid about on the floor before she reached the door to the chamber where Fenris stayed in most of the time.

In her arms was a notebook and fairy tale book for children held tightly to her chest with a quill and pen in hand. She breathed deeply and tapped on the door awkwardly because of the supplies in arm.

“Fenris?”

There was a pause before she heard shuffling and muttering. The door to his chamber was thrown open. The elf's face looked weary and haggard, so unlike his usual self. Instead of the armor he donned every day, he wore plain white pants and an undershirt stained with spots of dried red wine. She smiled nervously when he glared his tired eyes at her.

“Why are you here?”

She motioned to her arms and said, “Well, I was hoping you might want to continue our usual lessons.”

“I'm not in the mood.”

She blew out a small nervous breath and nodded. His tone was sharp and she felt no reason to stick around and push the issue.

“I'll be here for you when you do,” she began to turn. “...if you still want to.”

Marian understood but still, she was hurt. She wanted Fenris to think she was strong and was indifferent to the sudden distance between them but she was only fooling herself.

Head held eye, she walked back down the stairs and reached the entrance but couldn't make herself leave just like that. Sincerely and just loud enough so he could hear she called out, “I care about you, Fenris.”

 

\---

 

She was gone and he let her leave. The last thing he wanted was to be away from her, yet he let it happen. He should have stopped her, gone after her.

“I care about you, Fenris,” rang through his ears, pinning him to the floor. He was aghast and so confused.

_I should have stopped her, pulled her into my arms and claimed her mouth._

His feelings for Hawke seemed to grow with every passing hour. He couldn't let go of his control, he couldn't give himself to anyone else. Being devoted to her completely defied his feelings on being free. He can't be a free man near her because he would follow her anywhere. Like a dog... Like a ' _little wolf_ '.

Yet despite his objections, when he was with Hawke he never felt more at peace. There was freedom in having her teaching him to read, in joining her group in fighting oppression in the city (even if that included the rights of mages), and in speaking openly to her. She made him feel like an equal and even her friends, his friends, never spoke down to him. He was the brooding warrior to the group, not the slave.

His week away from her was a mess. He was constantly drunk, every moment of his day. He drowned his heart and his head in the alcohol, unwilling to feel at peace after his last encounter with Hadriana.

_Chains strapped tight to my wrists and my feet. Hadriana's vicious sneer when she looked to me, the broken slave who bowed to her. I am her toy, her play-thing. She can use me however she wants because I have to obey, Master. He would be most unhappy if I denied his apprentice her will._

_No!_

Fenris tossed his wine into a wall and threw his head into his hands. Memories of her tormenting him, beating him, humiliating him flashed through his mind. He wanted to forget, he wanted not to hurt anymore. She was dead, he had killed her with his very own hands. Where was the closure in this? 

Hawke's sad brown eyes kept haunting him when he thought of his outburst. He took out all of his frustrations on her and she had done nothing but support him. The way her mouth twitched into that brilliant smile meant only for him, black lashes fluttering when she was flustered, long hair falling around her face after a tough fight made him weak. She made him weak but oh, so strong and it did nothing but confuse him even more. She was everything to him; she was his world. 

_Why did I hurt her too? I am still a worthless slave incapable of human interaction. I will never be good enough for her, I will never be what she needs..._

_No. I will go to her tonight. I cannot keep away from her any longer._

Fenris was determined yet terrified. He tried his best to keep busy by bathing and putting his armor back on. He polished his greatsword over and over in front of the fire, forced food down his throat and avoided wine for the first time he could remember. When the hour began to grow late, he left for Hawke's at ten. The short walk to her estate was nerve-wracking.

_Just go back, she won't want to see you._

He forced his doubts to the back of his mind. He was resolute but giving in to this... temptation was insanity. Slaves did not love, they could not care for another in this way. They were not allowed to have friends or lovers, and children was especially out of the question. 

_I am no longer that person. I am free._

He stared at the front door for long moments, lantern next to the entrance flickering wildly with the strong winds and found he could not do it. He was scared of rejection. He envisioned her standing in the doorway, sneering and cackling at him for even thinking she could care. That... was not her though. She wasn't Hadriana, she was nothing like the magisters from the Tevinter Imperium. 

Before he could run, the door was tossed open and Leandra Amell stood dressed in a formal, burgundy gown with an expression of surprise. Heat rose to his face, expecting her to tell him to leave. He knew Hawke's mother probably did not approve of their... friendship. Instead he was surprised to see a warm smile appear and she said, “Fenris? Marian is with Aveline at the Viscount's Keep but she should be home anytime now.”

“Oh, I'll be on my way then.”

Before he could walk back she shook her head and chuckled. “Nonsense! There's a chill bite to the air and the fire is warm in the foyer. Marian left hours ago and is bound to be home any moment now. Bodahn took Orana and Sandal with him to trade at a nearby town for the weekend so there's no one else there,” Leandra spoke reassuringly to him and stood aside to let him through.

“Alright,” he responded, trying to hide his surprise.

“I'm going to Lady Redrick's ball and won't be home until tomorrow, please tell my daughter for me. If I saw her now she may scold me for going out so late.”

Her smile was mischievous and lighthearted, it reminded him of Hawke's playful grin when she was planning something devious.

Fenris stepped into the house after Leandra affectionately patted the top of his white hair and left. Hawke would be home alone and the thought somehow thrilled him. He began to pace around the bench in the foyer nervously, wondering if she would even come home at all. After walking around in circles for about ten minutes he plopped down on the bench, hanging his head on his hands in frustration. Fenris was a notoriously impatient man.

_See! She could be out with Isabela for all I know and it's not hard to imagine the trouble she could get Hawke into. She wouldn't care to see me anyway-_

“Fenris?”

His head flew up in shock, he hadn't heard her enter at all. She was dressed in a long, blue gown fit for a noble and had a flower tucked into her loose hair that fell in waves as opposed to her normally straight locks. Her lips were a dark pink color and her eyes looked more bold and exaggerated than usual.

“Hawke... you look...” his words were lost upon his lips but she smiled and blushed nonetheless.

“This is the feminine side of me, remember?” she asked with a smile and then her voice changed and asked, “Why are you here?”

He sighed and stood from the bench, approaching her.

“Hawke, I'm sorry about what happened with Hadriana,” the words poured from his mouth before he could stop them. “My past with Hadriana... It had to be done. She was my tormentor. I was deprived of food, water and sleep and tortured frequently because my pain was a game to her. I couldn't let the opportunity past though Maker knows I wanted to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I am filled with such hate. It is a deep feeling of loathing that I am powerless to control. They made me this way and I cannot be content knowing Danarius is still out there hunting me. I thought I could let go but I am... _weak_ ,” the words were spilling from his mouth and he felt even more powerless then. He was opening himself to Hawke, allowing himself to be vulnerable for her. He felt his stomach churn anxiously and he felt his brow break into a sweat. It brought unease to his core yet he knew that Hawke would not judge his past. She wasn't the type of person to think lesser of anyone unless they gave her cause to.

“I.. should not burden you with such things.”

“Fenris, you are not weak and you certainly are not a burden to me,” she was gazing into his eyes, a fierce longing that even himself could detect clearly was appearing before him. “I cannot blame you for what happened in the holding caves. I'm sorry that I cannot understand the things you've been through as a slave but that doesn't mean I don't care. I want to understand, I want you to feel free to come to me without judgment, and I want... I want you to know that I am here for you. Nothing like this could change my opinion of you. You're still that terrifying warrior, remember?" 

His ears burned, his jumped in his chest. She really cared for him and he was a fool to think she couldn't. From the very first moment they met more than three years ago, she had always cared. 

"Thank you, Hawke. That means more to me than you know," he attempted to keep his voice steady through this sudden wave of emotion she had poured into him. 

She smiled brightly at him, full and pink lips turning up into that beautiful smile. “Just... let's get something to eat and maybe we could finish another lesson or something.”

What could he do? Refusing her was futile but learning to read was not how he envisioned spending his time with her. Still, her big eyes bore into his eagerly awaiting his answer and he found himself speaking.

“I would like that very much, Hawke.”

She was beaming at him with a crooked smile and beckoned him into her room. She had him sit at a desk in the corner and she excused herself to grab some food.

He took in his surroundings, realizing he had rarely been inside of Hawke's home and never before had laid eyes upon this room. It wasn't very big but had a big bookshelf lined upon a wall, probably left there by her ancestors collection. A large, mahogany desk was in the corner of the room stacked with multiple piles of vellum and scrolls, with several pots of ink and quills laid upon it. Candles burned from the wall sconce and from her desk but the fire is what brought the room to life. In the back of the room was a huge canopy bed decorated with red and gold linens. 

She returned then carrying a plate with cold meat, cheese, bread, and berries on it and a big bottle of wine that looked to be Antivan. When he saw the bottle, she grinned sheepishly at him and he found himself grinning back.

“Eat up, Fennie,” she said to him, setting the plate in front of him on the small table and then putting the wine bottle next to him. Briefly, as she leaned down to him, he could see the tops of her bare chest, and the rise and fall of her breathing which immobilized him in place.

“You're lucky I left my supplies right here at our convenience,” she gestured to the notebook, fairy tale book, quill and pen laying next to the plate of food.

She plopped down a mere few inches from him in a spare seat casually and he watched in awe as she plopped a berry into her mouth.

“Let us begin, then! I hope there is enough light. Can you see well?”

Was she speaking to him? He couldn't tell anymore at this point. He was looking at her full lips when she had wiped the juice from a berry over it with her finger and sucked. There was a stirring in him then and he fought to control himself.

“Um, yes it is sufficient.”

Hawke didn't seem to notice his faltering and almost immediately began demonstrating how to write their companion's names from their previous lesson. He had spelled the names correctly, but didn't quite grasp the concept of capitalizing.

“- See? You capitalize the beginning of a name. The 'V' in 'Varric' is always capitalized,” she was explaining to him and he was writing the dwarf's name for seemingly the millionth time that evening.

After an hour and a half of practicing, Fenris was finally holding a book in his hands. Their lessons had been continuing for about a month and Hawke eagerly handed him the children's book.

“A book of children's fairy tales, Hawke?” he looked at her with a raised brow; he was none too amused.

“Hey, I learned how to read with children's books!” she interjected, with playful offense. 

“Well you were a child,” he smirked up at her. “Okay maybe you still are a bit.”

“Fenris! You wound me. Come now, read me a story,” she mock demanded and then laid her head on his shoulder, briefly stunning him.

Her long hair fell slightly over his shoulder, probably tangling itself in his pauldrons but he cared not. She was _touching_ him. He caught Hawke's scent: a mixture of something sweet or creamy with violet or maybe rose. Never had anything smelled so enticing. Under his skin, his lyrium responded with a quick glow. Suddenly embarrassed for Hawke could now see how he physically responded to her but she said nothing. He felt her cheek against his armor, warm and soft. He felt her breath grazing down his chest which marked goosebumps all along his skin. Hawke felt... good. This touch was gentle and he felt suddenly so constricted in this armor. He wanted nothing more than to tear it off and feel her skin against his. The pleasure was almost too much as his lyrium vibrated under his skin. 

“O-once up on a time,” he began to read slowly. Not just because he was new to reading but because she was making his heart flutter wildly. The story was about a princess who was kidnapped by an evil witch in the wilds and how a brave knight found her and saved her life. Every once in a while he would mess up a word but Hawke softly corrected him and explained why something was pronounced the way it was. He was grateful for her patience but Maker, she was driving him crazy. Her body was so close, her skin so close to his.

“The end.”

She sat back up, as if returning from a trance and gave him a broad smile. He immediately felt the loss of her warmth when his lyrium dimmed and he swallowed a small, disappointed gasp. 

“You did it! You read your first story, Fenris!” she was congratulating him. “I am so proud of you.”

“You are proud of me?”

“Yes, why wouldn't I be? You're a quick learner.”

“But I saved you from no dragon or witch in the wilds,” he said in jest and she scoffed.

“Don't think I've forgotten all the times you have saved me,” her tone was more serious now and she was gazing into his eyes dreamily. “My knight in spiky armor.”

He surprised himself by chuckling wholeheartedly and she laughed along with him. He was not used to this. Mirth? He felt his demeanor soften, like his experience with Hadriana had finally lifted its weight from his shoulders.

“You make me feel free.”

She stopped and looked surprised to him, her eyes gleaming and teary, and she said, “I am so happy to hear you say that.”

“Me too,” he was a little embarrassed over his confession but it went well. He was full and light and felt somewhat happy. Of course he couldn't really show it. Not completely. Allowing Hawke a glimpse past his hard exterior was an exception.

“Fenris, I think you're drunk,” she was laughing now. Looking to the dial, she gasped and noted, “Maker, it's almost two in the morning already.”

“I shall take my leave,” he said simply but she surprised him by shaking her head.

“You can stay here if you'd like to. It is awfully late and there may be some leftover gangs we haven't cleared out yet,” she reasoned but she was twirling her fingers in her hair and looking about nervously. 

“That is kind of you to offer but I should stop taking up your time.”

Her shoulders sagged slightly and her expression looked almost disappointed but she immediately snapped out of it and nodded.

“I'll walk you to the door,” she suggested and she was walking him to the door in comfortable silence. When they reached the entrance she shifted nervously.

“Have a good night Fenris. I enjoyed my time with you and I appreciate you opening up to me,” Hawke was admitting to him and he was so grateful for her then. She was beautiful in the moonlight, reminding him of a time three years ago when he stumbled upon her bathing in a stream. The memory stirred him again and he glanced back up at her to bring him back to the present.

“Thank you for your help, Hawke. Goodnight.”

He had turned from her and heard the door shut from behind him as he walked off towards his Hightown home. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, realization dawning and hitting him with a brick to the face.

_She was propositioning me?! I rejected her! Blighted, damned fool!_

 


	6. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song recommendation:  
> [Henry Green - Electric Feel (Kygo Remix)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIe_aX3g7cQ)

“I'm sorry, Merrill,” Hawke had a gentle hand on Merrill's shoulder as they walked down Sundermount in the late afternoon.

“I just don't know why Pol was so afraid of me. I cannot abandon the Eluvian, Hawke,” she was crying and her friend embraced her openly.

“Don't cry not, Kitten. Why don't we do something fun together when we get back? A round of Wicked Grace or a night out flirting with sailors on the Docks?” Isabela chimed in, and stood on the other side of the Dalish mage.

“I suppose Wicked Grace would be fun Isabela, but I'm afraid I don't understand how flirting works,” she admitted to the Pirate Queen but she only laughed in response.

“Who does?! To get their attention all you have to do is wear something skin-tight and flash a pair of-”

“'Bela,” Hawke warned.

“Fine, why don't we just give each other makeovers then?” she sauntered over to Hawke then, suggestively eyeing her figure over.

“I so rarely get to see Hawke out of those leathers. Let's see some skin!” she grinned to her fellow rogue who only scoffed.

“Oh! That sounds like a great idea, Isabela!” Merrill agreed and Hawke relented.

“Maker's breath, fine, but Aveline is coming no matter what. She secretly lives for this kind of stuff,” Hawke's tone was playful now and the women all huddled up together, chatting excitedly over something Fenris couldn't understand.

He grunted and pretended to seem disinterested.

“- I bet broody here would kill to see you wearing something with a bit of leg.”

His ears perked up and Hawke had looked up blushing at him. He quickly darted his gaze and desperately tried in vain to focus on anything other than Hawke's light-skinned, soft legs.

_You are losing yourself to her. She will be the death of you._

By the time dusk had come around, the group had settled in a clearing hidden off of the main road back into Kirkwall. The camp was surrounded in a massive willow tree next to a river running down the mountain. Merrill had managed to get a blazing fire going and had finished cooking some stew from the root vegetables they found when there was a loud crackling in the rapidly darkening sky.

“There are two tents. I don't mind sharing with you, Hawke,” Merrill called to her as she began to set them up. Fenris was assisting with the other tent as the rogues hastily ate their stew.

“Bunking with the mysterious and handsome broody elf? I'm in,” Isabela purred and grinned up to Fenris. He was utterly appalled by the notion and darted his pleading, large eyes to Hawke. 

“No. You can share with the witch,” he denied her and she was feigning a pout.

“No fair that Hawke gets all of your attention,” she was teasing him and he was not amused in the slightest. He motioned to Hawke for assistance and she sheepishly grinned and shrugged.

“It's settled then! Isabela you bunk with Merrill and I share with... Fenris.”

Her voice wavered a bit at the sound of his name, which Isabela caught. She flashed Hawke a knowing look with a cocked eyebrow and sly smile.

The fire was extinguished within the first minute of sudden pouring, leaving Hawke scrambling inside of the tent Fenris had just put up. He heard Isabela and Merrill giggling as they hurried into their respective tent and he breathed out nervously.

“Fenris, you'll get soaked out there! Hurry up!”

Hawke was calling out to him when he realized that his underclothes had soaked through, despite the armor. He hurriedly entered the cozy tent and looked up just in time to see Hawke with his back to him, shrug out of her wet tunic. Her hair was lifted with the shirt, showing her bare and elegantly arched back to him. She looked soft and warm and the smell of her was strong in the small space. He was entranced; she was a drug.

His lyrium hummed and he couldn't help the sudden flash of blue illuminating the tent. Stunned, Hawke turned slightly revealing the side of her breast and she quickly turned back in realization, tossing a regular ivory shift over her head to hide herself.

“I apologize,” he was looking down at his knees in shame and she turned once she was dressed, cheeks just barely pink now.

“I can only blame myself. I did tell you to get your broody ass in here,” she responded indifferently in her usual playful manner.

_Touch her._

Fenris said nothing as he began to remove his armor. He fumbled with the clasp to his chest and meddled with the blighted thing for what seemed like ages before he felt small, nimble fingers reach out and grasp. Hawke expertly undid the clasp and slid his breastplate off of him, leaving him breathless.

“Being a rogue is useful for some things. Sometimes.”

He was hot. The air was cold from the rain, the tent was barely leaking from the sudden pour and he was as warm as Tevinter in the middle of summer.

_Touch her._

Fenris, now donned in his plain, rain-soaked, white underclothes, rummaged through his pack, pulling out a bottle of wine which brought a smile to Hawke's face.

“My last bottle of Aggregio. I've been saving it for a special occasion,” he swiftly opened the bottle and passed it to Hawke.

“Oh and what is that?” she asked before taking a swig and handing it back to him.

“The anniversary of my escape,” he raised the wine and began to chug. He stopped himself to try and appear an at least functioning alcoholic to Hawke and then handed it back. “Care to hear the story?”

“Are you sure?” she asked softly. Her worry over him remembering painful memories touched his heart and it only encouraged him to continue. 

“It is a special occasion,” he noted.

“Then by all means, continue. I like to listen to you speak anyway.”

“Mm. There are few pleasures greater than speaking with a beautiful woman,” he lowered his voice, causing her eyes to grow wide for a moment. He heard her suck in a breath and bite her lip almost as if she were aroused.

“Danarius left me in Seheron after he was unable to get passage for me on a ship. I found refuge with a rebel group, the Fog Warriors. They took me in a nursed me back to health and so I stayed. They treated me as a person and for the first time in my life I had felt like I belonged. Danarius found me though and ordered me to kill them. So I did. I slaughtered them all,” he was retelling his story to Hawke and she looked shocked.

“That is.. terrible. Why would you do such a thing?” she did not sound disgusted with his actions, just confused.  _She is so understanding of even the atrocities I've committed..._

“It felt inevitable. My fantasy of freedom had gone and I could no longer hide from my master. The sight of the bodies of men who I had grown fond of was eye-opening to say the least. I then ran away, as fast as I could. I never looked back.”

“Why did you stay with Danarius?” Hawke's questions were earnest and so he replied as honestly as he could.

“You have not been a slave. I knew no other life and freedom was a dream a slave never dared have. It was impossible. You care only for your master's desires. After I had gotten a taste of what being free meant, I couldn't go back,” he was beginning to sound weary so he gulped down more wine before handing the rapidly decreasing bottle back to Hawke.

“This cannot be easy to speak of,” her eyes were sympathetic before she took another small sip and set it between the two.

“I...haven't spoken of this to anyone else before now. Maybe this is what it means to have a friend,” the bottle of wine was finished now so he tossed it out of the tent into the rain.

“Or we could be more than that,” she shifted, her gaze bold and direct.

_She wants me. Touch her._

“I've never allowed anyone to be close to me. The markings were so painful and the memory lingers. But you...” he didn't realize he had been leaning closer. “You are unlike any woman I've ever met. With you, things could be different.”

“Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

_Touch her._

“I don't recall being with anyone before I received these markings,” he admitted.

“..and after?”

“I was never in one place for too long. I didn't think I needed or even wanted anyone... until now.”

She was breathing quickly, he could barely see her quiver with the chill of the air. Hawke's eyes grew dark and wanting, a side of her he hadn't had the privilege to see before.

_Fasta vass, touch her!_

“We could find out,” her voice was low and sensuous, shocking even him. He felt his heart quicken and his eager member twitch against him. He felt her breath against his arm as she leaned forward slowly, warm eyes darkening clearly even in the dim light. He unconsciously was leaning into her, his breathing becoming irregular and the lyrium glowing a trail across his tanned skin. 

Before he could even speak they heard loud laughter from the tent next to them, stunning them both back into reality. He growled under his breath.

“On another evening, perhaps,” he hated himself for saying that. With Hawke, he knew he could not hold back. He dared not touch her with their companions so nearby because he was going to make her scream.

She let out a long, deep breath and sighed before nodding and smiling sweetly at him. She had seemed to snap out of her lustful mood and reverted back to her usual cheery self, but he knew Hawke. Her cheeks were still slightly reddened and her chest was rising and falling quickly, still coming down from the high of anticipation. 

“Then we should sleep, Kirkwall is less than a morning's walk away and I promised the girls I would play dress up,” Hawke's voice raised to its usual casual note and he smiled despite his ever-growing ache for her.

Hawke climbed into her bedroll, and turned away from him, leaving him feeling empty.

_Maker, why are you doing this to me?_

Hesitantly, he shimmied into his own bedroll and became increasingly aware of the sharp chill that clung to his very bones. Even in the dark, his breath was visible. He heard Hawke sigh and shift around, obviously uncomfortable.

“Fenris?” she whispered into the night. He was just happy to hear her voice.

“Yes?”

“I cannot get warm. I'm from southern Ferelden and even I am freezing,” she muttered quietly and he noted the chatter of her teeth. Without word, he dared to sit up and climb to Marian's bedroll where she slid aside for him to join her. He wordlessly slipped into her bedroll and then grabbed his linens from the side, laying the extra blanket over the both of them.

_Maker she is like ice._

Hawke pressed herself against Fenris, nuzzling her head into the crook of his arm and sighing. His heart thudded so wildly against his chest, he feared she would hear it or even feel it because of how near she was. His body ached for her, her comfortable touch alighting the ever-growing fire back into his veins and all her could so was let out a ragged sigh. There were so many things he wanted to do to her, his self-control was waning.

Yet he heard her breathing go steady, knowing then she had fallen asleep, body pressed up tightly against him and he calmed himself against her. He allowed himself to touch her then by moving his hand across her arm and to her face. He stroked the hair away from her cheek and ran his hand down the curve of her neck. An uncommon peace found him then and he soon was able to warm up against her and find sleep. For the first time in what felt like months, he did not have a nightmare.

 

\---

 

_The air was thick and electric with lightning zapping across the wheat field at random intervals. A quaint farmhouse stood to the edge of the field where smoke bellowed out of the chimney on the roof._

_Behind him was a large willow tree that swayed against a babbling river. A woman sat upon a boulder overlooking the wide river, her dark hair lifting in the wind with the willow tree. She stood on the boulder in her simple peasant dress and turned to him._

_“Hawke,” he called to her._

_Recognition flashed across her expression in astonishment before she spoke._

_“Fenris, are we in the Fade together?” she asked him, hesitant._

_“I do not know... I am dreaming though. I have never seen this place in my life,” he responded to her. Suddenly he was on the boulder next to her, staring down at the black, fake river._

_“This is supposed to be my home in Lothering,” she explained. “Last time we were in the Fade together that did not go so well.”_

_“Yeah, sorry about that.”_

_“What is this supposed to mean?”_

_He couldn't answer her for he was just as baffled. He had little experience with this sort of thing._

_“You're no demon, are you?” he asked her. She laughed._

_“You give me such little credit, Fennie,” she chuckled and he rolled his eyes._

_“Okay, you aren't. Don't call me Fennie.”_

_Her breath caught and her sleeve fell to reveal her scar from the lightning. The skin looked newly red and peeling, the distinct 'F' embedding itself deeper into her flesh. Her eyes flashed wide and she fell to her knees in shock._

_Hawke cried out in sudden agony, hand grasping desperately at her burning flesh while Fenris watched in horror._

_“Hawke! Tell me what to do,” he begged her, dropping next to her and pulling her absentmindedly into his arms._ _She writhed and squirmed but didn't move from him._

_“Help me, Fenris.”_

 

_\---_

 

“I just knew you two would end up in each others arms at one point,” Isabela's smirk was what they awoke to before she pulled the flap back and disappeared out of the cramped tent. Hawke was panting and holding her wrist tightly when Fenris sat up beside her. He immediately reached for her wrist, finding the scar unchanged and skin light and smooth.

“I swear I saw-”

“In the Fade? That was real? You were truly there?” she asked him, astonished.

“I think so... I was speaking to you by a river under a willow tree. Now that I think about it, it didn't look much different from the willow tree outside,” Fenris explained, hand covering his eyes in confusion.

“Why do you think I chose this spot to camp? It reminded me of home,” her eyes were sad but she winced as she moved her wrist back from his hand. “Why does it ache so much if there is nothing there?”

He shook his head in disbelief and looked back at her. Hawke looked so utterly beautiful in the morning, it momentarily took his breath from him. Her hair was disheveled and a bit tangled, her cheek marked from where her head had laid on his chest, and her eyes drooped slightly from exhaustion. He wanted this every day of his life.

“We'll figure this out, later. Let's just get back to Kirkwall.”  

 

\---

 

Hawke had found herself in the Hanged Man in Isabela's quarters with Merrill and Aveline beside her. They were rummaging through Isabela's surprising amount of clothing collection with their hair styled elaborately and their faces painted with makeup.

“I'm still surprised that I look more like a princess than a whore, Isabela,” Aveline had poked fun at the Pirate Queen while she finished applying red lip paint to Merrill.

“I have many years of experience with this, thank you very much,” she responded with a huff. Hawke was dressed in dangerously short, jet black, skin-tight leathers which clung to every nook and curve throughout her body. The skirt was split up the side, revealing almost the majority of her thighs if not for the impressively tall boots. The sleeves were long and tight, and it showed a subtle amount of cleavage she could actually feel proud of. She usually felt that her chest was small when compared to Isabela who was quite well-endowed but this get up somehow embellished her breasts in a way that surprised her.

“Seems I've chosen the right look for you. Deadly seductress really suits you, Hawke,” Isabela had remarked after tousling Hawke's dark hair which fell loose and slightly messy around her shoulders. Her eyes were lined with black kohl and her lips were a slight red and she somehow felt confident.

“Maker be damned Isabela, you were right. This does a wonder for one's confidence,” Hawke admitted to her pirate friend and she winked in response.

Merrill was dressed in a casual yet beautiful deep green dress with daisies in her hair, embracing her Dalish background. She beamed in the mirror while Aveline scowled at the idea of wearing a dress in front of her guardsmen but she relented when Isabela presented her with a plain white dress that reached her knees but still looked feminine.

The women excitedly made their way down the stairs to join the merriment in the Hanged Man and the crowd seemed to quiet momentarily when Hawke dared turn the corner. There were shocked gasps among the crowd and then a murmur of appreciation. Anders met her at the bottom of the stairs, mouth agape, and a look of deep want clearly written on his face.

“Marian, you always surprise me,” Anders said to her, slowly, as he took her hand and kissed it gingerly. His golden brown irises found her dark brown ones and he breathed out against her palm.

“ _Hawke_.”

His voice was unsteady, dark, and... somewhat aghast.

“Hi Fenris,” she looked to him, hand falling away from Anders's, and focusing on him.

“Andraste's perky tits, dance with me, you sweet, tight, little thing.”

An unfamiliar, drunken voice knocked them from their stupor when a large, fumbling hand suddenly squeezed her ass. She gasped aloud, eyes wide in surprise and in a sudden fury.

She whipped around and clutched his wrist, yanking it behind his back in such a fluid motion that he almost fell in his drunken state.

“You do NOT touch me,” she growled and he sniggered. His icy eyes were looking down from her face to explore her body and he continued laughing.

“You are ridiculously sexy being this angry. I shall have to tame you,” he slurred out and added, “Have a preference, sweet thing? Rope or leather?”

Before she could respond, Fenris growled and his hand found the man's neck, swiftly lifting him into the air, releasing Hawke's grip on his wrist. His lyrium hummed beneath his skin while Anders and Hawke watched incredulously.

“I suggest you leave her alone.”

The drunken idiot was kicking at the air and gasping for breath when Fenris released him by tossing him like a toy several feet away. One of Aveline's guardsmen nodded in their direction before yanking the drunk up onto their feet and escorting them out of the tavern.

“Nicely done Fenris, now everyone will be too scared to ask me for a dance!” she looked to him sarcastically but his eyes remained furious and serious.

“Nonsense, come dance with me Marian,” Anders chimed in with a broad grin. She looked to Fenris for whatever reason. For permission? The idea was ridiculous but she instead smiled and nodded to the mage before they made their way to the space where Merrill was dancing with Varric and Isabela was rubbing herself against some soldier.

“If I may, my Lady Marian,” Anders bowed with a playful smirk and she played along.

“You may, Ser.”

He took her hand and twirled her around as a merry, Ferelden folk song was played from musicians across the tavern loudly and somewhat off beat. The crowd cared not though and danced and ran around happily.

Marian was never a dancer but she enjoyed playing around. Despite her being a rogue, she was far from coordinated when it came to dancing. Her partner however was leading her easily, spinning her around and around, pulling her into his arms and back out again as they tavern cheered around them. She found herself enjoying the music and the atmosphere immensely and at the end of the song she graciously bowed to Anders and thanked him before heading back to the side just in time to see Fenris leave.

Her light mood had vanished within seconds. She sought nothing more than his presence and was disappointed to find him gone. Feeling guilty for dancing (though she knew she shouldn't because Fenris insisted that he didn't dance and she could do what she wanted), she walked out of the Hanged Man and headed back to Hightown for she was no longer in the mood for jolly folk songs and drunken leering.

The walk was refreshing, a welcome cool feeling in the air replacing the heady scent of the tavern. The full moon was high above her in a cloudless sky sprinkled with stars and she more than once found herself pausing to gaze up to admire its beauty. The scent of jasmine and tuberous filled her nose when she climbed the many steps into Hightown, pulling her into a calm trance as she finished her walk to the estate. 

At last she reached her home in Hightown and gasped to see a figure sitting on the bench.  

 

\---

 

She was here, she was finally here. To be fair, he had only been waiting a few minutes before she appeared meaning that she had left not long after he did. She was irresistible in her leather dress and tall boots. He had to physically restrain himself from grabbing her as crudely as the drunk had done in the tavern. Never had he felt more angry than in that moment when a man had the audacity to touch her.

 _Mine_.

“Hawke,” he stood, voice low and deep. “I've been thinking of you. In fact I've been able to think of little else.”

He almost ran over to her, begging, but he was able to restrain himself from appearing a desperate fool. He stood a mere inch from her face, eyes baring into her warm, brown ones. His heart was thundering madly in his chest, his muscles clenched against his armor in anticipation.

“Command me to go and I shall,” his last thread of restraint was breaking.

_Touch her. Grab her. Rip her clothes off. Claim her._

She looked almost frightened before her expression became longing, eyes filled with a need as deep as his when she breathed in a shaky breath.

“Don't you dare.”

He set himself free. His lips finally crashed against hers in a frantic need he could only describe as deep, irrevocable lust. She parted her lips and his tongue met hers halfway, her trembling hands fumbling their way into his hair. In response, he backed her into a wall and pinned them aside so quickly she could do nothing but let out the slightest moan as he reclaimed her lips. His hands dug into her wrists as he held her back tightly, and his mouth began to explore down her neck where he sucked and bit at the skin, hoping more than anything she would be covered in markings he had given her, showing the world that she was _his_.

She moaned freely now as he moved to her collarbone and to the tops of her breasts that spilled from her top. He pushed her up against a wall so suddenly, she gasped. Her legs wrapped themselves around his waist and he carried her hurriedly up the stairs while she began to explore the skin on his neck with her soft lips. Her lips were parted when they found their way up his neck and to his prominently pointed ear. She hesitantly bit the tip of his ear and he almost fell to the floor in ecstasy.

_This is new..._

He threw open her bedroom door and slammed it carelessly behind him before they fell into a tangled mess of gasps and moans onto her bed. Her boots were the first to go and his gauntlets followed, being tossed frantically about over her floor. His lips remained almost glued to hers as he tried to unbutton her impossibly tight dress. Only his trousers remained while her Blighted dress, however alluring it was, clung to her.

Losing control in a mess of frustration, he grabbed the front of it and tore swiftly, a satisfying rip tearing it directly in half down the middle. Her chest heaved against her breastband when he tore the remnants of the dress from her body, freeing her arms from the impossibly tight sleeves before clutching her again.

His body was pressed up firmly against hers while her hands explored his broad, intricately tattooed chest.

“Does it bother you?” he found himself asking, though refusing to stop. His mouth pressed against the breastband and his tongue licked across the cloth that covered her pert nipple. A low guttural moan escaped her before she squeaked in a daze, “what?”

“My markings... the lyrium.”

She looked into his mossy green eyes and smiled sweetly.

“They are beautiful,” she assured him sincerely and her hands went back to tracing the patterns across his broad chest.

The lyrium sang under his skin. That was the only way he could describe the pleasure that enveloped his being when she touched him. It responded to her in a way he never could have dreamed was possible. It was not pain, it wasn't even quite pleasure. It was divine. It was a touch from Andraste herself. His skin glowed wildly and uncontrollably for her and somehow that made her moan even more.

Her breastband and smalls were tugged off of her in a frenzy while his hands found refuge, clutching at her smooth, pert breasts. His thumb ran smooth over her small, pink nipple which tightened in response. He growled low in his throat as he gazed at her bare, pale breasts bouncing slightly with every movement she made.

Hands ran over her her body. She was soft and was surprisingly more curvy than her usual armored leather revealed. Her feminine and sweet smell filled him, as he dared to rub his fingers against her sex. Hawke was writhing against the bed, hand tugging at the bunched sheets beside her while the other grasped his white hair between her fingers. A quiet and quick whimper escaped her and she pleading for more.

“ _Fenris, please_.”

He removed his hands and grabbed at her thighs. He lowered himself and yanked her thick thighs down so her pink and deliciously fragrant sex met his mouth. Fenris laid his tongue against her and moved from her opening to the top of her throbbing clit. She cried out his name, unable to contain herself from pushing down against his mouth for more. He was happy to oblige by licking her drenched sex, applying more pressure with each slow and deliberate lap.

“Oh Maker, Fenris!”

She came, crying out his name and bucking her hips up to meet his mouth frantically. His heart soared, his cock throbbed and he hummed against her uncontrollably. After she calmed and her hips fell, he crawled back over her body with his slick lips hovering over her full lips that were swollen from his desperate kisses.

“Taste yourself on me, Hawke,” it wasn't a question. She reached for him, pulling him by the hair down to her. She licked at his lower lip and sucked on his mouth. He was moaning against her, and before he could say anything, her hands were untying his trousers and letting them fall to his ankles. Fenris kicked them from his feet and gripped tightly at her thighs once more. Her mouth found his ear again, causing him to freeze and cry out desperately. Her teeth lightly nibbled at the tip, while he began grinding his cock against her sex.

Normally, Fenris would be horrified to let someone hear him be so vulnerable. With Hawke, it was so different. He didn't hold back his moans or his grunts as he clawed at her skin while she teased him in his most sensitive area.

“Make love to me, Fenris,” her voice was small and low, breathing hot against his ear, and he chanced a look at her. Her face was flushed and her brown eyes were heavy and pleading into his. Something shifted in the atmosphere and he slightly released his menacing hold on her.

He moved his palm up to cup her cheek and he brushed his thumb over her brow, moving the long strands of dark hair from her face. He hadn't realized he was smiling down at her until she did the same.

_I love you._

Fenris wanted to say but he held himself back and gently pushed his eager member into her hot and slick sex. Both of them whimpered and gasped, not daring to relinquish their intimate eye contact. He held his hand against her cheek while she ran her fingers through his hair, both moaning and rocking against each other.

_Black hair and tanned skin. Small, barefoot feet thudding across the dirt ground to his home._

He let her moaning and whimpering envelop him, he let her warm eyes swallow him whole. He moved inside of her agonizingly slowly but neither of them ever wanted this to end. They had both waited long enough and deserved this happiness.

They were making love to each other. This was not a frantic fuck, this was not an emotionless tumble in the sheets. He was letting her bare into his soul when she had already opened herself to him. She had loved him and he knew that. He loved her.

_Prickly grass brushed past him as he ran across the field, squealing. A young, red-haired girl ran with him playing tag._

Hawke's voice pulled at him, aching for him.

“Let go, Fenris.”

He whimpered into Hawke's chest, gasping while she fell into that deep abyss alongside him. He was shaking when he spilled into her, a pleasure so intense his body screamed in delight, his skin glowing blue and blinding.

“ _Marian_ ,” he called her by her given name for the first time as he collapsed into his arms. Nothing could compare to this, nothing was ever so beautiful. He was happy.

_“Come to Mama, my sweet son.”_

_He was laughing hand in hand with his older sister, Varania. She was pulling him to the clearing where his Mama sat in her chair on the small porch patching a pair of ripped trousers. Her wide smile delighted the young boy when she pulled him up into her lap._

_“Mama's here.”_

Fenris was in agony. The sweet and gentle moment between him and Hawke was shattered as he froze against her.

She was unaware, body curled into his and dozing off. One of her hands was entwined with his as she slept, her features gentle and content. His forest eyes brimmed with tears he could not dare spill as he shivered into her.

He couldn't handle this. He could not fool Hawke into thinking he could give her watch she needed. He couldn't be strong for her.

_Broken, worthless slave. I am worth nothing. She deserves better. I cannot give her happiness. The memories are gone._

 

_\---_

 

 

Hawke turned to the side, eyes opening in a terrified awareness that she was alone in the bed. She heard shuffling and found Fenris standing by the fire, tightening his gauntlets to his wrists. Her own scarred wrist burned in response. Her pulse was speeding up as she wiped her eyes. Hawke was no fool and she knew something was wrong.

“That bad, huh?”

She tried to sound lighthearted but her tone was quieter and more anxious than she had intended to sound. He turned rapidly, mossy eyes wide and surprised to hear her voice.

_He's leaving me._

“I'm sorry, it was... fine,” he began. She winced, her stomach churning in dread. “No, that was insufficient. It was better than anything I could have dreamed.”

“Was it the lyrium? Did it hurt you?” she asked shakily. Her head was spinning, her world collapsing around her.

“No it wasn't that. I began to remember my life before I received the markings and then it vanished,” he was explaining to her. She nodded understandingly.

“I thought you wanted to remember.”

“It it too upsetting, Hawke. I just can't... I can't do this,” _I can't be with you_ is what she really heard. He reverted back to calling her Hawke after he had sang her given name in the throes of passion.

“Please, I can help you. We'll get past this,” she felt like a fool. How could he want her? She was begging him to stay and she couldn't stop herself.

“I'm sorry, I feel like such a fool. I just wanted to be happy for even a little while. Forgive me,” he was turning away from her so she could not see his expression. He was walking towards the door and she threw herself off the bed and stood to him bare and exposed, vulnerable and crumbling.

“I love you Fenris, please don't leave me,” tears fell and slid down her cheeks and onto her chest. He briefly turned, his eyes unreadable before saying nothing and continuing towards the door.

She fell to her knees, broken and lost. The door shut and finally Hawke let out a deep, sob that wracked at her whole body. She curled into a ball on the floor in front of the fire, letting the anguish overtake her. She didn't move and that is where she remained all night, unwilling to get back into the bed she had shared with him.

 


	7. All That Remains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Recommendation:  
> [Bonobo - Black Sands](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTjF2_-bneM)

Leandra Hawke was worried for her daughter immensely. Marian had remained in her quarters for most days, only leaving the estate to assist the people of Kirkwall when someone had come knocking at their door for help. Even then, she left alone. Marian had not seen her friends for two weeks. Everyone, except Fenris, had showed up at the Hawke estate at one point or another, leaving Leandra having to explain that her daughter was not feeling well.

Today, Marian had dressed in a plain shift dress after pulling her damp hair in a tight braid that she usually wore after her bath. Leandra hesitantly entered the study where she was laying on the chaise, glimpsing through a book about the scandalous rulers of Orlais.

“Marian?” she asked softly, shutting the door behind her. Her daughter's sad eyes glanced up at her briefly uninterested before turning back to the book. “How are you feeling today, my girl?”

There was no response except for a sharp intake of breath. Knowing her daughter well after her twenty-one years in this world, she recognized when Marian was trying to hold back tears. Leandra hurried over and sat by Hawke's head, pulling her weakened daughter's head into her lap.

“My baby girl,” she soothed, gently patting her daughter's hair. “You deserve so much more.”

She held her daughter affectionately for a while, letting her weep into her skirts as she once did as a small child. Her heart ached for her pain and she wanted to yank the elf and drag him by the ears to make him apologize for hurting her so much.

Leandra was reminded of how she felt long ago when she thought she had lost her Malcolm. Her family forbade her from seeing him and she had told him that they could never be together. He had pleaded with her and she had cried because she wanted him so bad. She remembered the heartache and the tears but she got her happy ending when they pledged their undying love and fled into the night.

Malcolm was her world and she still was not used to his absence. They had not had long together, him dying after less than twenty years together. Nonetheless, they were very happy. They had beautiful children, a fruitful farm, and a picturesque cottage. She ached for her deceased son, her lost daughter, and her other daughter nursing her own broken heart. Leandra missed her home and her family but at least she had her beautiful daughter in her arms again.

“Mother, why does it hurt so bad?” Marian had asked between choked sobs. Leandra looked down at her shivering child and continued to brush her hair back.

“Because you trusted him to not hurt you. There is nothing wrong with trust, love. I'm just sorry that you trusted the wrong man.”

 

They spoke of Ferelden and Bethany in the Circle. Her mother spoke of her life with Malcolm and assured her daughter that there would always be room for love and a happy ending in her life. That night, Leandra had tucked Marian into her large bed just as she did once long ago back in Ferelden. She sat in a chair nearby, humming to herself and skimming through a book as her daughter fell into a much-needed sleep. At least she could still take care of Marian in some ways. 

 

\---

 

“Hawke, I wouldn't usually say this but maybe you should slow down,” Varric was suggesting as she chugged back her third stein of ale. Her eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed from consistent crying over the past three weeks. She had to face her friends eventually, she knew that. She was not ready to talk of her torment and so instead she drank. Heavily.

“It makes everything not _hurt_ , Varric,” she tried to smile at him but it was faint and grim. He frowned, concern furrowed on his bushy brows.

The crew, excluding Fenris, was gathered around the table in Varric's suite playing Wicked Grace but no one could really focus. Everyone was aware of Hawke's anguish and no one knew how to fix it.

She flinched at the sudden touch of a soothing hand on her shoulder and looked to the side to find Merrill smiling reassuringly at her. Hawke was grateful for her, for all of them. They cared, even if they didn't want to fully admit it. Isabela never would, but her insistent questions on Hawke's health and fury knowing her friend's heart had been broken showed it.

“I'll kill him,” Isabela spat out suddenly, rising out of her seat. “Maker, can't you just tell us what happened?!” Her hand was on her hip and she was looking expectantly at Hawke. She found no words and swallowed at a sudden hard lump in her throat.

“Isabela, there is nothing you can do,” Hawke's voice, usually so confident and brave, was quiet and unsure. It disturbed her companions to no end. She sighed and plopped back down onto her creaky seat, exasperated. 

“Hawke, I am here for you, you know that.” Aveline smiled at her. They pitied her and her broken heart. She had helped Aveline win Donnic's heart while her own was shattered into pieces. She wanted none of their pity, none of their judgment.

The door opened and in entered Fenris, looking uncharacteristically ragged and more drunk than usual. The group fell silent as their eyes darted between Hawke and Fenris, nervously. The air was heavy and her heart stilled.

_No, I cannot face him; I cannot do this. Maker, preserve me._

Fenris immediately found Hawke and his bright, green eyes briefly flashed with emotion before returning to his usual stoic demeanor. Anders fist clenched against the table, jaw set. Aveline's back stiffened against her seat while Isabela openly looked like she wanted to murder him. Merrill and Varric were looking to Hawke sympathetically before she abruptly stood and faced him.

“Fenris,” she greeted with a small smile that failed to reach her eyes and then turned back to her friends at the table, “I'm sorry, I must take my leave. I'm afraid I have some business talk to do with the Arishok.”

Hawke was inebriated but sounded determined and resolute through her poor excuse before she left, brushing past the elf which almost knocked her to the ground in agony. She felt her wrist burn and she winced through the pain, feet padding against the stairs as she made her way out of the tavern and out into the cool night. Her skin was hot against the soothing cold and she began her walk to Hightown. Crickets chirped from the sparse trees scattered across the city, stars danced from above her, wind whipped at her sore cheeks and her heart ached.

_This will pass. I will make it out of this okay._

She was repeating the mantra in her mind, attempting to convince herself that she would survive indeed.

Bodahn greeted her at the door and Orana smiled shyly at her when she entered the estate. She inquired after her mother's whereabouts but Bodahn shrugged.

“I'm afraid I haven't seen her tonight, Mistress,” Orana answered, bowing her head. Hawke wished then that she could embrace the frail woman and assure her they would be friends and equals but she didn't want to frighten her. Orana had been through so much as a slave of the Imperium.

Hawke was curled in her bed once more, after making sure the sheets were changed so she wouldn't have to smell any lingering scent of _him_ in it. It would have been much too painful. There was no fire lit in her room and instead the window was open, inviting in the cold bite to the atmosphere. She welcomed it, falling into a dreamless sleep.

In the morning, she awoke at an unholy hour, heaving the contents of her stomach into a bowl beside her. Her entire body was shaking, her heart was speeding as she continued to dry-heave bile into it. As the hours passed, she kept lying back every ten minutes only to spring back up and vomit once more. Orana had heard her and had brought in a pitcher of water with some towels and a fresh bowl. She was grateful as she brushed Hawke's hair back as she continued to shake and shiver.

“Mistress, shall I send for your healer friend?” Orana suggested carefully and Hawke relented. She was frail and weak and so unlike herself, even with this broken heart.

“Okay... and please find mother too.”

Anders arrived about an hour later after rushing to Hawke's side who was shaking uncontrollably against her sheets. His lips curled into a frown and he sat gingerly at her bedside.

“Maker, you do not look well,” he noted.

“You sure know how to flatter a lady,” her sarcasm was back at least. He held a hand to her sweated brow and frowned.

“I'm just going to examine you. I understand, you've been vomiting nonstop this morning,” he asked her and she nodded. She watched anxiously as his hands glowed blue and hovered over her shaking body. He paused when he reached her stomach and his amber eyes grew wide.

“Maker,” he exhaled in astonishment. She sat up, nervous and weary.

“Anders? What is wrong?” she asked, terror overwhelming her weakened voice.

“Hawke, you're pregnant.”

She heard him but it did not quite register. That is when she noticed the white lilies on the mantle outside of her room past the open door.  

 

\---

 

Fenris was in agony. He had never drank so much in his life. Wine stained almost every item of clothing that he owned and shattered wine bottles littered his chamber floor.

_Why did I leave her? Why? Why? Why?_

Her words echoed in his mind, ' _I love you_ '. He knew she meant it and he knew that he had broken her heart. Hawke had given herself to him, had been loyal and caring from the very beginning of their friendship and he had abandoned her. He was a fool and a coward. _Worthless slave_ , just like Danarius had wanted him to believe. The truth was, he couldn't really leave her. He listened to her cries for him in the night as he sat, perched outside of her window. He listened, hidden on the balcony to her study, as Leandra had comforted her heartsick daughter inside. He was a coward and a liar. He could not face her.

He jumped as he heard his front door slam open in a fury and a loud call.

“Fenris!”

The mage was yelling at him, his voice... worried? No, he was not angry, there was something else to it. Fenris walked to the stairs and noted the mage's frantic appearance.

“Come now, Hawke needs your help. Her mother received white lillies and has not been seen in a day,” Anders explained, an edge of distrust and worry hidden in his voice. He obeyed silently. Hawke would indeed need his help and he would have to face her eventually. So he threw on his armor and grabbed his greatsword, following a rushing Anders into Lowtown where Hawke was awaiting them.

She stood, eyes sunken and in a frenzy, with Aveline beside her. Hawke was dressed in her usual leathers that seemed to hang off of her weary body. Her hair was disheveled, letting it fall in a loose mess instead of her usual braid or half up-do to keep away from her face.

“There is a trail of blood. Let's follow it,” was all she said as they headed out. Indeed, there was a thick trail of blood that oozed across Lowtown that eventually led to the foundry. He heard Hawke suck in a breath before throwing open the door and yanking her daggers from her sheaths.

Things turned into a blur as they battled shades and demons alike in the dark, dank rooms in the foundry. Hawke, despite her frail appearance was a demon herself as she fought hard and relentlessly. They made their way down some stairs and into a room where a man stood awaiting them.

“She is perfect, just the way I remember her,” his sadistic smile effected even Fenris in a way that made him shake. The blood mage summoned demons, shades and undead from left and right.

Hawke did most of the fighting, not resting for a moment to catch her breath as she furiously attacked the mage. It was a bloody battle that knocked Hawke off of her feet several times, sprawling across the floor before jumping back to the crazed man. Fenris watched in awe and worry as she slit his throat and noticed a figure moaning on the floor. She dropped her weapons and stared before rushing over. They followed silently, as horror and realization dawned on the helpless group.

Leandra Amell was no more. Her head was sewn onto body parts unlike each other and yet her eyes still found Hawke's.

“Marian...” she coughed, voice weak and frail. Hawke fell to her feet and knelt to her mother, holding her head.

“Mama,” her voice was shaking and high-pitched. Never had Fenris seen her so... small. She had crumbled, her demeanor becoming more childlike and scared. 

“You have made me such a proud mother. I will see Carver and Malcolm again and it will be okay. I love you so very much, my sweet baby Marian...” she choked and she was gone.

The room was still, Aveline's mouth agape and her hands twitching, Anders watching in disbelief. Hawke let out a noise no one should ever have to hear. It was a loud, wracking, sob that poured into the night. She wailed and fell into the...thing's chest. Her body heaved and she threw herself away, suddenly on fire.

Her eyes scanned the room and fell upon the blood mage who did this. She yanked Fenris's greatsword from his hand, approached the dead body, and swiftly decapitated it with all of the strength she had left in her. She continued to hack at the corpse, screaming and crying in such raw grief that Fenris could do nothing about. They could hardly watch and yet they did, knees weak and eyes stuck to Marian's grief.

_Hold her. Comfort her. Take the pain away._

He could do no such thing but watch as she finally gave up and ran from them. They watched her go when Aveline began to cry, shocking them both back into the present. Anders reached out a hand and comforted the guard captain while Fenris just watched in horror. He was helpless, he was powerless, and he did nothing but watch as the woman he loved fell apart. He waited for a long while, his companions stuck in silence and despair save for Aveline's sniffles. 

Before he could question himself, he flew out of the foundry and out of Lowtown, ignoring the curious glares from passerby's. He couldn't wait to catch his breath and so he continued sprinting, lyrium alight in his veins until he reached the Hawke estate. He let himself in and entered her room, not bothering to knock, and found her sitting silently on the side of her bed staring into the fire. Fenris wasn't sure if he should approach or not and he wasn't even sure if he should have been there in the first place.

Watching Hawke be so completely overcome with grief made him feel guilty and sad and there was not a blighted thing he could do about it. He wanted to end her suffering, to coax her anguish out of her and make everything better. He walked to her then and announced his presence by saying, “I do not know what to say, but I am here.”  

Her horribly sad eyes looked into him and she spoke quietly, “say something.”

“They say death is a journey...” Maker he was so terrible at this. Her eyes fell back down and she continued to stare into the fire. He watched her twiddle her thumbs together in her lap against her plain red, cotton shift she wore to sleep. He wanted to take her into his arms but he had lost that opportunity. He had left her and she would never want him back.

So he sat, about two feet away from her and looked to the ground. They didn't speak for a long while that night. Every once in a while she would sip from a glass of water to soothe the ache in her throat that he knew she must have got from screaming and crying so much.

_I am so sorry, Marian. My Marian..._

He found no words still, and as the hours passed she silently crawled into her bed, hiding herself under her sheets. He watched her body trembling as the fire died out and continued to look on until her shaking breaths slowed and she succumbed to a light slumber.

Fenris stood and quietly left the room, passing Orana on the way out who was carrying towels and a wooden bucket into Hawke's bedroom but he thought nothing of it. On his way out he offered his condolences to Bodahn and his son Sandal before leaving and never looking back.

He had messed up terribly. Hawke's mother dying was far from his fault and yet he still felt so guilty for leaving her. He needed her in his life and he couldn't let that go at least. Even if he could never have her as a lover again, she needed to know that he would always be there for her. So why was he leaving her once more? 


	8. Shackles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> Please skip to the end notes for the warnings if you wish to avoid this. I am unsure of this chapter and it was difficult to write such a fucked up passage but I intend for this fic to focus on depression and eventual healing.

Hawke was standing outside of the Chantry, staring up at the tall building and scowling to herself. For as long as she could remember, she had somewhat believed in the Maker, even if she wasn't ever devout. Now... there was no more faith left in her to even pretend. Yet she still took on quests in the name of the Maker to do alone or sometimes accompanied by Aveline, Varric, or Merrill. She threw herself into doing odd-end jobs around Kirkwall every single day just to distract herself from her overwhelming grief.

Hawke feared being alone now and Isabela had caught on. Many times the Pirate Queen had showed up at Hawke's estate to gossip about men or go out clearing the streets of gangs at night. She enjoyed her fellow rogue's company very much and yet it still wasn't the company of who she really wanted. Nonetheless, she needed Isabela and she was grateful just for her presence.

Anders had watched over Hawke like she was a time-sensitive bomb about to set off at any given moment. She had already shattered though. All that was left was the shell of a woman whose innocent views had beaten her raw and ate at her very being. He met her there, commenting on the impressive infrastructure of the building before walking into the estate with her.

“Marian, have you told Fenris yet?” he asked plainly. She sighed and looked up to the kind mage before shaking her head.

“No, and I do not plan to. He made it very clear that he didn't want me and if he knew I was carrying his child he would not want it either. I will go away soon before I begin showing and start my life over somewhere else,” she admitted to Anders then. He looked... disappointed.

“I will come with you. You need a healer to watch over your health anyway,” he suggested earnestly. She gave him a small smile, his kind amber eyes pouring into her warm dark ones.

“We both know that the mage underground needs you here.” He sighed, hopelessly but dropped the subject. Without asking, he hovered his healing hands over her abdomen and looked to her with a smile.

“You're about ten weeks in now and it seems like you are doing wonderfully. You may begin to show at about around... I want to say sixteen weeks?” Anders tone had turned into patient healer and she couldn't help but smile more fondly this time.

“I'm glad. I have lost so much Anders and this child is what I think will bring me back to life. I am surprisingly looking forward to it. My mother would have been so happy,” with the mention of her mother she looked away, down at her feet which were covered in thick, black boots that needed to be polished.

“You will make a wonderful mother, Marian. Leandra would have been very happy indeed,” he was looking at her with a kind and loving expression and a small part of her was glad. Most had shied away from the subject of her mother but she was relieved that he spoke freely. It had helped her come to terms with her loss.

“Would you care to stay for dinner, Anders?” she changed the subject. She enjoyed spending time with the healer. Though she knew he had feelings for her that she did not share, their friendship was strong and true. He helped her through a lot the past several weeks.

“I'm sorry, I'm afraid I must get back to the clinic. There's a patient waiting for me right now actually, I had to wait a while for their bone to set after healing and now I must finish the job. Make sure you eat more, you are eating for two now,” he smiled at her and bent to kiss her cheek. To her surprise, she was embarrassed and she knew her signature blush had finally made an appearance once more.

“Don't worry, I will. Thank you, Anders,” she said truthfully. She squeezed his hand before he left and joined Orana, Bodahn, and Sandal at the dinner table. Orana had prepared a hearty meal of roasted chicken and vegetables. Hawke finally gained her appetite back and her servants smiled with relief to watch her slowly return back to normal.

 

\---

 

_Fenris..._

_The name she called out from her boulder atop the black river echoed from the rocks and she sat down. She had loved him so much. She had cared for him deeply. She couldn't stop dreaming or thinking of him. She wanted to tell him of his child but was terrified of him rejecting it. Marian could not let him hurt her child too._

_“Hawke.”_

_A familiar, deep voice echoed from behind her. She spun around to see the warrior walking towards her through the wheat field with a longing look in his beautiful, moss eyes. She hoped her baby would inherit those eyes._

_He was hurrying to her and her heart began to soar. Did he want her back?_

_The sky was growing darker and darker, the air beginning to buzz with electricity around them. Rain spilled from the clouds and before he could reach her, a bright flashing light and thundering clash swept through them._

_Marian's wrist burned where she had been struck before but this time, when the white light had faded she found her elven warrior bent at the knee, clasping his own wrist in shock and agony._

_“Fenris!” she cried out to him, running. She couldn't reach him, a hand had clasped over her mouth, stunning her, pulling her so far from him._

_He looked to her, eyes terrified and lost and screamed for her._

_She awoke._

 

_\---_

 

“Don't move, bitch,” a menacing snarl filled her ears, a strong and tight hand pressed over her mouth. She was in her bed but when she opened her eyes she found someone restraining her and another standing off to the side holding shackles. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, not caring for her safety but instead for her baby's.

She tried to speak but it came out a mumble against the restraining hand. In response, she felt a hard hand connect with her jaw.

Marian was then dragged from her warm bed and immediately after the man's hand left her mouth, before she could cry out, a thick cloth was shoved in between her teeth and tied agonizingly tight around her skull. Her hands were forced forward and she soon found manacles snapped tight across her wrist. Her scar burned in response and she whimpered in pain.

“Knock her back out, Hoth.”

Before she could wriggle free, try to fight or scream or do anything a hard, metal grip of a sword met her skull and she fell far, far away.

 

\---

 

The Wounded Coast. A deep, winding and endless cave. Muffled shouting, sneers, laughter, and the feeling of blood magic heavy in the air. A metal cage strapped to the floor, magic locking her in with no chance of escape.

“Hello, pet. My name is Danarius and I know you very well. I believe you know the whereabouts of a certain elf and I'm going to need you.”

Danarius? No, this is a nightmare. She wouldn't budge and betray Fenris but what if he discovered her pregnancy? The magister snapped his finger and her shackles and cloth fell to the side. She breathed deeply through her mouth and rubbed at her wrist.

“Now Hawke, it's only fair to expect you to be grateful,” his icy stare poured into her and he smirked. “Thank me.”

She spat at his feet instead.

“You'll break soon, once you get your markings anyway. In the meantime you give me no choice but to make you grateful.”

He was muttering something in Arcanum, she realized he was casting a spell, and her body seized against the metal bars. Sharp, agonizing pain shot up the entirety of her skin and she screamed. There were daggers suspended in air, dragging across stripped naked skin, slicing up her thighs, arms, stomach and back.

“What do you say to your master?” Danarius demanded with a vile smile.

She choked on the words but she spit out, “thank you.”

“Not so hard is it, pet? Be a good girl and you will be rewarded.” 

There were no more words to be said, no more thoughts, as she stared helplessly at the magister. He smirked at her and with a mere snap of fingers, she was knocked back onto the cold ground, unconscious.

Marian awoke, shivering against the cold metal of the cage. There was no light other than a small hole in the cave where sunlight barely poured through. There was a small canteen of water and chunk of bread tossed into the cage and she eagerly took them.

_You need your energy. Stay strong. Do. Not. Tell._

Her wrist burned, the marking left from the lightning was searing at her skin and she could do nothing but clutch at it. She remembered seeing Fenris in the Fade and calling out to him. She remembered watching him fall to a blinding light and being choked into the real world.

After she had finished eating and drank half of the canteen, wishing to preserve the rest, she slid her vaguely torn red shift back over her naked body.

“Did I tell you that you could dress, slave?”

His leering voice snapped at her attention and she felt a feral snarl deep in her throat. She wanted to make the man choke on his words.

_No, I will make him choke. I will make him scream in agony. For Fenris._

“I need you undressed for the ritual, of course!” The metal bars were thrown open with a snap of magic and she cowered.

Danarius swept his scarred hand through his thick, gray hair before he sauntered forth and grabbed her arm, pulling her forward into his body. He sneered at her and tore open her dress again, looking at her naked form and then whispering something in Arcanum.

Suddenly, her body went limp and she was paralyzed. She couldn't even scream. Her eyes could only flicker across the room desperately as he carried his ragdoll pet out into an open area of a cave covered in moss. It smelled of gore and lyrium, strongly.

_Green moss... just like this eyes._

“We're just going to try one small area, my pet. It's best to stay quiet, for your own sake. I would hate to punish you again.”

She was laid upon a hard stone slab and tied down, despite her paralyzed form. She looked around her surroundings in terror. There were four men in the room, one of them being the magister. They were holding needles and laughing with each other.

_Dear Maker, help me... Fenris..._

She wanted to scream, to cry out. No sound could escape, her mouth refusing to form any words. They watched her frightened eyes and only laughed in response.

_Remember these faces, Marian. Remember their eyes because you will look into them once more with their bodies laid before your feet._

Danarius approached, a glowing red aura appearing from his hands and he smirked down at her frozen body.

“That's a good slave.”

A deep, unbearable pain struck her in the wrist where her scar was and she realized this was where they intended to embed lyrium into her body as a trial. This could kill her, Fenris had told her once that he was one of the only successful victims and many died in the process.

She felt the flesh tear and she was crying out. Or at least thought she was. Tears fell from her paralyzed eyes. A large needle struck her in the open flesh. Her heart was thudding so loudly she feared it would give out and kill her.

“You have a pretty scar, my pet. I think we'll just trace that instead.”

Agony overtook her and she finally was screaming. Her body couldn't shake but at least her mouth could work again. Her eyes were wide in terror as she smelled her flesh burning, the scent causing bile to pool in her mouth. She was going to choke on her own vomit.

“Keep quiet _bitch_ or I will make you quiet.”

“Nonsense Ed, she is my responsibility. I'll keep her quiet,” Danarius reprimanded casually. She hated him. She seethed and let her fury take her, barely distracting her from the horrifying pain. Her body was twitching, slowly returning to life and that is when they stopped. It cut at her, it burned and she was sobbing.

“Good girl. Let's see if that heals. In the meantime, keep her held down. I must punish her for her cries. I did say it would be best to remain quiet, pet,” he sounded so nonchalant for a tormentor. It was as if he was scolding a naughty child instead of torturing a grown woman. Vomit dribbled over past her lips and Danarius approached with that blighted smirk that forever etched itself into her nightmares.

The men that accompanied him shoved down on her arms, pinning her tighter to the form slab. The ties pushed around her chest and she cried out. She watched in horror as he pulled up his mage robes and approached her naked body.

“ _Please_ ,” she pleaded, body shaking as it was recovering from the paralysis. He only chuckled darkly and then forced himself into her in a quick, burning motion, causing more screams to pour from her throat.

 

\---

 

“Maker please, make it stop!” Fenris screamed out. He was curled on the dirt floor inside of Anders's clinic with Merrill beside him.

He felt everything. He felt the slicing of her body, the paralysis, the needles and open flesh being filled with lyrium, and to his disgust he felt her rape. He heard her thoughts, her pleading and her agony. 

“How is this happening?!” he was sobbing onto the dirty floor, hands pulling desperately at his matted, white hair. He was unknowingly dribbling bile from his mouth, unaware of Merrill rubbing his shoulders gently. 

“How can we make it stop, Merrill?” Anders voice was heard throughout the chaos.

“He explained it, Anders. Fenris' and Hawke's souls are bound together and he is feeling everything that Hawke is. We can do nothing but find her and make it stop,” Merrill was responding through cries at the thought of her friend being tortured.

He was becoming delirious, he was losing himself to her torment.

“Please! Stop touching me-” he cried out. “Don't, don't. I can't move. I can't breathe. Get him out of me, get him out. Make him stop. Maker, get him out of me.”

His friends watched, eyes wide in terror and something he couldn't decipher. They were watching Fenris unconsciously narrate Hawke's rape and they looked sick.

“He's stopping. He's slipping out. I'm bleeding, I'm torn. It hurts, Maker it hurts. Don't let him know. He can't know. Don't hurt my baby.”

His body seized and he opened his eyes to find Merrill and Anders standing over him, horror apparent in their desperate expressions. He was scared, he needed to get to her. He couldn't let them hurt her. He wobbled up and supported himself on a post.

“Hawke is pregnant?” Merrill asked incredulously turning to Anders. The realization hit Fenris like a wave crashing over his weak form and he gasped.

“I need to find her. I can't- I can't.”

A sudden jerk of his body and he was falling forward once more, lyrium alight at his wrist where the new scar lay from the Fade. He clutched at his abdomen and screamed.

“How did he know? No, no. Using it to hurt him. Blood magic. It's gone... He's taken it. Using it to hurt Fenris. Leaving... finally. Into Kirkwall. I'm alone and it is gone.”

Fenris whipped back up, coming back into reality. His green eyes were frantic and flickering across the room.

“ _He's_ coming.”

 

\---

 

She was bleeding out on the stone slab where her abdomen had been sliced open. Marian could do nothing but watch in horror and despair as he took her baby and used it in a blood ritual she couldn't even begin to understand. 

“ _Slaves are not permitted to have children_.”

She remembered him saying with a sneer. She cried and held her abdomen, letting grief overcome her. Marian Hawke knew she was going to die like this and at this point she wanted to. She had lost her father, brother, mother, her sister to the Circle, and now her baby. The only man she could ever love had abandoned her because he did not love her back.

_Maker, let me die and end my anguish._

 

\---

 

Danarius lay dead at his feet while his sister cowered in a corner of the Hanged Man. All of his companions had accompanied him in a determined panic. He turned his large, moss eyes to his sister's near identical ones and spat.

“Get out of my sight and never come near me again,” he ordered her. Tears fell from her eyes as she nodded and ran away from the tavern, red hair disappearing from his sight.

“Let's find Hawke. You say you can find her with... that,” Varric motioned to the elf's wrist and he nodded. Varric, Isabela, Merrill, Anders, Aveline and Fenris left the city, headed to the Wounded Coast. He felt her there, he could sense her.

A storm rattled across the sky above, a late omen to the day's horrific events. His lyrium sang under the skin of his wrist the closer he got to her. His woman, his lover, _his_ Marian. He would find her, he would rescue her and he would never let her go again.

They entered a cave that was mostly empty until they found an open make-shift room covered in the bodies of slaves slaughtered to fuel their blood magic. There she lay on a stone slab, a sacrifice to their demons.

He ran to her and threw himself over her naked, barely alive body.

“Save her!” someone was crying. 

Anders ran forward and pushed the elf off of her before he untied the rope clasps that held her to the stone and began glowing blue. His eyes briefly flashed an ethereal blue, Justice daring to pull through, but Anders regained control. The mage focused his hands over her open abdomen, the flesh responding by repairing itself before their companions eyes. 

The sound of magic working its way through Marian's body and sniffling from various companions filled the room. Merrill was crying into Isabela's arms while Aveline held Varric's hand, a gesture meant to comfort but did so little. Anders pushed his mana into Hawke, causing her to twitch.

_Come back to me, Marian._

Finally, they heard a loud gasp. Anders shrugged out of his coat and draped it over their friend while she let out a weary whimper.

“Let me die, Anders. Please do this for me, I have nothing left to live for,” her voice was pleading and yet so serious it chilled everyone to the bone.

“Marian! I could never do such a thing,” he argued adamantly. She was shaking her head, her damp hair matted with sweat and blood.

“My entire family is gone and now my baby is too. The only person I could ever love doesn't feel the same about me and I am nothing but a broken burden. I want nothing more than a merciful knife to my heart. It's easier,” she sobbed into the mage's feather coat that he adored so much. Anders shook his head, tears pooling in his golden eyes but he was pushed aside as Fenris stepped into her line of view.

“Hawke...   _No_ ,” Fenris pleaded and then grabbed her hand. Their markings went alight in a blinding flash of bright blue. Their bond had sealed.

He looked down to his love, shivering and cowering at the magic that existed between their lyrium-filled wrists. The burning was gone, the pain had vanished because of him. His touch ended it. In a daze, she fell to exhaustion and fell into his arms.

 

\---

 

_“Hawke!” he was sprinting up the Wounded Coast towards the cave where they had found her before. He felt her near, he knew she had to be waiting for him._

_“Fenris!” she cried out._

_There was a full moon hanging low over the coast as she ran from the caves in her cotton shift. Her dark hair fell loose and whipped behind her as she darted, lyrium newly embedded in her wrist, singing in the dark._

_He was there, white hair shining in the moonlight and she breathed out. They had reached each other on a cliff hanging over the blue sea, both of them sprinting and panting until their eyes met._

_His vibrant eyes found her warm brown ones and he smiled. Fenris never smiled._

_“Marian,” he said almost delirious with sudden mirth. She broke into a smile and before he could move, she had jumped into him. She threw her arms around his neck, pressing her body completely against his while standing on the tips of her toes, lips desperately moving against his._

 

\---

 

She awoke, gasping. She was alone in her bed, the fire crackling and full of life and she yearned for him. Her head throbbed as she stood quickly, only to be met by a deep ache in her belly followed by her heart.

_My baby..._

Hawke's heavy sigh filled the empty, glowing room and she looked down to examine herself. There was a barely visible scar on her abdomen from where Danarius had cut her. Her wrist... it thrummed and shined blue. The markings had appeared to be successful and yet she belonged to no one.

In awe, she watched as it sparked at her touch. She noticed her lightning scar, the 'F' even more prominent than before and she couldn't help but let out a joyless chuckle. She may as well have belonged to someone. It was too bad they didn't want her.

Though her body ached and she felt lyrium hum beneath her skin, she walked to her window and locked it. She wondered how she could ever feel safe in this room ever again. The door clicked and she saw Orana enter with a bowl of water and a cloth. When she noticed Hawke up, she jumped and smiled nervously.

“Mistress! I am so glad you're okay,” Orana was smiling broadly as she set down the basin and approached Hawke. She reached out and pulled the elf in an embrace that she so desperately needed and she hugged back eagerly. She was only glad that Orana now saw her as an equal and a friend. She pulled away from Orana carefully and tried to smile.

“I was told you had broken out in a fever and brought some water for you,” she explained gently. Hawke nodded understandingly because her head did feel particularly warm.

“Orana, can you tell me if Fenris is here?” she found herself asking. She felt herself a fool but Orana cared not and answered.

“Yes, he is fast asleep on the sofa in your study.”

“Okay, thank you. You should get some sleep now, I know it's very late. I can take care of myself from here, I think I'll be okay,” Hawke insisted, noting the bags under the weary woman's eyes bright eyes. She smiled and thanked her before she left Hawke alone in the room again.

Hawke soaked the cloth and wrung it out before placing it over her forehead and lying back down in the bed. She would not face him now and she did think she could face him again. 

_It's okay to feel it now._

Broken sobs from deep within her throat bubbled to the surface. She had lost so much in just the past few months. Her lover, her mother, and now her baby. Hawke thought that having a child to love and protect would take away the pain and loneliness but now she didn't even have that to look forward to.

The truth was, she was only twenty-one and before this never even dreamed of having a child so young. The baby was her salvation in the chaos, the light at the end of the tunnel. She wondered if it was a boy or a girl and she wondered if it would have looked anything like Fenris. Hawke was told that half-elven babies usually looked more human but with distinct striking features like large eyes, tall legs, strong feet. She envisioned a child with her coloring of dark and thick brows and hair, her father's vibrant green eyes, and slightly pointed ears. It only made her heart hurt even more.

_I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to protect you, little one. I'm so sorry I have failed you..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning:  
> Torture/Mention of forced miscarriage/Rape, non-consensual


	9. Champion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Recommendation:  
> [ODESZA - It's Only (feat. Zyra)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPqTCrm61-I)

She dreamed of little else other than Danarius and Fenris. She saw each of their faces, peering down at her with so much hate in their eyes. They'd laugh at her, Fenris would leave, Danarius would... he would repeat the things he did to her in that cave. Fenris would let it happen because he couldn't stay with her. 

Yet, she was tied to him. 

Merrill had sat by her bedside each day, explaining to her the "gift" of the Elvhen gods or the Maker. "Not many are so lucky to have their love blessed by the gods. It so rarely happens that it was believed to be a myth! There is a reason you were chosen for this gift." 

She was sure she had heard of this happening before. Famous lovers throughout history, the kind written about in fairy tales, had briefly touched upon being marked to their lover with some form of a scar or bond. Some had interpreted it as the Maker's touch or a blessed gift from the Ancient gods. Hawke couldn't really tell and it just confused her already shattered faith. It felt like a slap in the face after everything some divine intervention had made her go through.

Hawke had remembered the night she was struck by lightning. She could have died and yet the lightning had done no damage other than a momentary daze and a new gnarly scar baring the letter 'F'. She had spent many nights studying the scar by candlelight, amazed and confused by how easily she had survived such an ordeal. 

Then the night she was taken from her bed, Fenris had been marked in the Fade of all places. He now bore the scar on the opposite wrist of Hawke's, ultimately sealing their bond together. 

She could feel his presence now and it was... unsettling to say the least. She could tell when he was angry or worried, or when he was having a nightmare. When they were not sharing a dream in the Fade, she would wake in an unbearable sweat after peeking into his nightmares. Other nights, she could tell he had fallen into one of hers, witnessing his own face being corrupted into a heartless monster who ran from her. 

Yet he still did not come. 

It had been two weeks after she was rescued until she had left her bed. Hawke had been training and sparring with Aveline and Isabela, grateful for the distraction and the warmth of her caring friends. 

“I see you have reverted back to deadly seductress,” Isabela was grinning at her from across their “arena” in Hawke's garden.

“Does that please you Isabela?” Hawke was teasing. Slowly, she was returning to her playful and cheerful self. The heavy burden of loss still hung heavily over her life but the weight was becoming more bearable now.

“Mm, most certainly, sweet thing,” Isabela was mock-flirting with her again, brow raised with a tongue sliding across her pierced bottom lip. Hawke chuckled and shook her head.

Familiar twin daggers were sharpened and glistening in the warm afternoon light when they had finished sparring. She was regaining her strength fast and somehow, she felt stronger than before. Anders had confined her to her estate for the time being to heal but she was more than eager to pick up a mission up to Sundermount or something so she could breathe.

Anders in the meanwhile was none too happy to hear about Hawke having a soulmate and he had huffed about in a foul mood all day when Merrill was explaining things to her. He felt angered and betrayed because he could never compare to a god-given soulmate.

While he was checking on Hawke one afternoon after the revelation with Hawke's scar, Isabela was watching him from the sidelines. His hands glowed over Marian's forehead, confirming the fever had receded, when the pirate eyed him with a look that could only be described as a lustful offer.

**You need no women in your life. They distract you from our cause.**

Justice had been nagging him constantly ever since he had laid eyes on Marian Hawke. He did not approve of his infatuation with the sweet rogue but Anders was fed up. He was so very tired of the spirit and he felt particularly deviant that day.

After he left Hawke's estate, he followed Isabela to the Hanged Man and gave in to his temptations. She was no Marian, nothing like the woman he loved, but she was talented and sultry enough to distract him and that was what he needed.

**Fuck you, Justice.**

 

\---

  


There was only chaos when Marian emerged out of her home to the sounds of shrieks. Qunari were swinging their weapons left and right at innocent citizens, bathing the streets in their blood, noble and peasant alike.

“Orana! Bodahn, Sandal!” she cried out, quickly stepping back into the estate and bolting the door behind her with nearby heavy furniture. Her friends ran to meet her from the kitchen, eyes filled with fear. Her mabari pup, Alexander, barked anxiously behind them and she jumped into action.

“You will hide in the cellar where there are weapons and Alexander will accompany you. I must help for now but I promise I'm coming back. Stay put until you hear the screaming stop and the guards calling,” she ordered sternly, warranting no protest from them.

“Be safe, Mistress,” Orana whimpered before throwing her arms around her quickly and scurrying away.

“Come back to us, Messere,” Bodahn reiterated while Sandal just smiled at her. She nodded to them and then thudded up the stairs and into her study where the balcony lay open.

She was thankful that she was once again wearing her leather armor and already had her daggers. Reaching into the desk, she filled her belt with potions and “enchantments” Sandal had so generously made for her.

Soon, she was out on the balcony but not before barring the door shut, and hopping down into the Hightown streets. She landed with a thud, knees bent and stood looking around not even knowing where to start.

_Save the city, Marian._

First, she would get to her friends. Turning on her heel, she broke into a run heading first towards the mansion Fenris stayed in, encountering her fast wave of Qunari.

Their eyes glowed a vicious yellow, that illuminated in smoldering fires encroaching the city. The sharp and tall horns stood out against the backdrop of destruction and she bounded forward into a dance she had once known so well.

“Come at me, you bastards,” she invited loudly with a glaring smirk. Several large, horned heads turned to her, dropping and ignoring the wailing noblewomen they were about to slaughter. They were advancing fast and looking back she realized she did not really have much of a plan.

Marian stood, sharpened daggers held tight in her hands and posed for them with a snarl on her mouth and a determination set in her warm eyes.

Swords clashed against her daggers and she was surrounded on all sides by four Qunari. She evaded each swing and lunge for her by jumping backwards and rolling around the ground.

“ _Maker_ , you guys are slow; those horns getting in the way?” she taunted them with a wicked smile, fueling their fierce anger but she was silently loving every second of it.

The dagger met with one's throat as she pounced onto its back. She rolled from the corpse as it fell, connecting the other dagger with another enemy's leg. It fell to its knees in a panic before she lunged, stabbing its creepy, cat-like eye.

She was posing again, daggers raised and dripping in blood menacingly mirroring the fires around her when the other two ran at her. Before they could reach her, one fell silently, its face contorted in agony when the head fell cleanly and rolled to her feet. The headless body fell, revealing Fenris behind, gripping his greatsword and panting wildly.

No time left to react, she ducked out of the way as the remaining Qunari swung their maul aiming for her head.

“Oh, so close. Nice try though,” she responded casually, glancing mirthfully up to her attacker. It once again yelled out a battle cry but was silenced by Fenris driving his sword through the back of his head, impaling the assailant through the mouth. He looked to Marian then and let out a relieved sigh.

“I am glad to see you are in one piece. You have not regained your health, you must return to the estate,” Fenris said worriedly, a command and not a suggestion. Marian chuckled darkly. 

“You don't know me very well if you really think I'm going to do that,” was all she said, approaching to yank his gauntlet. “Now come, we must find the others.”

There was no argument from him. He didn't look nearly as angry or upset though as one would have expected from Fenris. In its place was an expression of content and... pride? Her cheeks burned and she hurriedly looked away before their eyes could fully meet.

The duo sprinted into Lowtown, slicing down Qunari every few minutes. They ran only a mere few feet from each other, never straying far. In battle, they watched for each other, cutting down attackers before they could reach the other person. Marian wouldn't let them hurt him and she knew he would never allow them too close either. They were a natural and deadly team side by side like that, the rogue complementing the warrior. She was agile and graceful while Fenris was all strength and raw power. While he lunged head on, she would hit them from behind. 

Hawke bellowed out orders to the citizens they saved, telling them exactly what to do and where to go to remain safe. She cared deeply for Kirkwall and its people and she would do anything to protect her new home. So she easily slipped into leader-mode, commanding and protecting and fighting with a strength she thought she had lost with the deaths of her family. With the man she loved fighting by her side, Hawke was not a woman to be taken lightly.

Magic sizzling in the air, the pair finally turned a corner by the Hanged Man to find Merrill summoning a firestorm which wiped out six Qunari in a matter of seconds. Anders was off to her side freezing them with ice while Varric assaulted from the front with Bianca. The remaining Qunari fell in a flurry after and her companions soon looked over, relieved.

“Where is Isabela?” she asked worriedly.

“Nowhere to be seen, Hawke,” Varric responded, a hint of annoyance to his usually cool demeanor.

“Let's wipe these blighted bastards out,” Marian addressed their friends and she laughed despite everything: the loss of her family and baby, her capture by Danarius and his men, the distance from Fenris, the torture she had endured. She was going to make it out of this alive and Maker be damned if she didn't save her friends. 

Merrill had already secured the Alienage while Varric had taken care of the docks with Anders. Darktown was apparently spared altogether so the group was soon heading off back towards Hightown and the Keep where the Viscount was.

Aveline was waiting with guarsdman Donnic by her side at the entrance where nobles were ordered to file in by the Qunari.

“Hawke! We need to get in there _now_ ,” Aveline addressed her then and nodded.

Knight-Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino were awaiting her separately. There were dead templars and mages alike littering the entrance. They both looked to her and for once instead of arguing, they agreed that they needed to get inside. After saving Orsino, he distracted the remaining Qunari before they entered the Keep.

They all hurried into the mess, blood and gore still fresh on their blades when they threw open the entrance. The nobles looked on in horror as the Viscount's head rolled down the stairs and directly in front of Hawke's group. A thick trail of blood was left in its place, while the Viscount's pained, lifeless expression peered up at her. 

“I was expecting you, Hawke. You are just like the others,” the Arishok's violent voice boomed across the Keep. She couldn't flinch from him, she had gone through too much already and the bastard could not scare her. 

“There needn't be any more bloodshed. We can still work through this,” was her steady reply but the Arishok shook his head, massive horns baring proudly, and scoffed.

“Perhaps... Prove yourself, basra.”  

He stepped back and and a crew of Qunari Honor Guards stepped forward. Fenris tightened his grip beside her while Anders and Varric sighed heavily. Marian knew she could die here but she wasn't going to bring her friends down with her.

The guards proved to be quite the challenge as they were attacking the group in a blink. Fenris's lyrium glowed blue in an angry response as he lunged for the guards. Her feet jumped and sprang across the Keep, dancing across the floor and bringing down the Qunari one by one while her companions assisted. When the enemies lay dead beneath her feet the Arishok approached once more to address her.

“You are basalit-an after all. Few in the city command such respect. So what would you have me do if I do not have the Tome of Koslun?” his tone had warped into one of understanding instead of hatred. 

_He sees me as his equal._

Before Hawke could respond there was a muffle and a thud hitting the floor when Isabela sauntered in carrying the very Tome itself.

“Isabela, I thought you weren't coming back,” Hawke stuttered out surprised. Her friend only winked at her and tossed the Tome into to the Arishok's stunned arms.

“We shall take the thief and leave this city,” the Arishok interrupted and Isabela turned to him, stunned.

“What?” she gasped.

“Isabela shall answer to our laws, not yours,” Hawke interjected before he could speak. There was no Blighted way she could let them take Isabela. 

The Arishok stared down at her, feline eyes baring into hers menacingly but with a hint of admiration. In a way Hawke had _almost_ respected the Arishok before, but after seeing the devastation he had wrecked upon the city she thought him a madman.

“You leave me no choice. You are basalt-in, and I wish to fight you. One of us may not leave this place alive,” his voice was hard as stone, determined and unafraid.

“What? If you're going to duel anyone, fight me! I am the one who stole your damned relic!” Isabela argued, dark eyes fearlessly staring down the Arishok.

“You are unworthy, only basalt-in can duel with me,” he glared down at her and then turned back to Hawke quickly.

“Ready yourself.”

He was backing away and the crowd before them began to clear. Hawke was left alone, eyes darting immediately to Fenris. There was no fear or worry in his expression, just his regular stoic and hard-set self. Yet, the lyrium beneath his uncovered skin was trailing dimly across his arms. His mouth was clenched and his fingers were curled into a tight fist against his side. 

Standing beside Fenris, she looked to her companions. Merrill and Isabela were holding hands, Aveline stood uncertain with her armored arms behind her back, Varric was supporting himself on a column, and Anders openly was giving her a pleading expression. She looked at all their faces then, a harsh realization that it may be the last time they saw her alive, and turned. 

Shrieks erupted from the crowd before she could react, the Arishok was running directly to her. His large, menacing blades the size of her own thighs were clenched tightly with his arms spread out. Her only reaction was to run. 

She jumped into the air, rolling expertly several feet to the side as he slashed at the space where she once stood. Jumping back up and steadying her footing, she reached for her belt and tossed a grenade at the momentarily confused Qunari. A blast of thick smoke filled the room but after years of experience, she threw herself forward launching her blades directly across her opponent's back. 

A shocked moan echoed off of the walls briefly stunning the rogue before she tried to jump away. The Arishok's fist had reached through the fog, connecting with the armor at her chest. She squirmed and kicked as he stepped out of the mist, glaring at her as he easily threw her across the room. 

There were cries and gasps around her from the crowd as she flew, limp body connecting painfully with a pillar off to the side. Her shoulder took the force of the hit as it crunched agonizingly against the pillar. She lay motionless on the floor, stunned for all too long, before standing in a daze. He was already coming towards her. 

She ducked as his blade swung to the pillar and rolled behind him. Her daggers lay by her feet and she scrambled to pick them up as he crashed into the pillar. Despite her shoulder aching terribly, she lunged forward to meet him. Her blade pierced the skin at his back and he cried out. 

He tried to turn around from the pillar but it was too late. Her other blade had connected with his throat. 

The Arishok turned then, large blades crashing to the floor beside him, yellow eyes meeting hers. Blood dribbled freely from his mouth and wound as he looked furiously into her. He grabbed at her then, pulling Hawke into the air and tossing her away from his dying body. 

There was a sickening thud and a crack before everything went dark. 

 

\---

 

"Do something!" Fenris had screamed at the healer.

The Arishok lay dead in an unnatural heap on the floor while Hawke lay several feet away, blood pooling from her head. Nobles and citizens alike were already running to the fallen body of the rogue before Fenris could reach her. 

The crew hurried forth, shoving aside the frenzied crowd as Anders fell to his knees, quickly turning Hawke around and laying her injured head in his lap. His hands were already alight, hovering over the bleeding wound on her hairline above her forehead. The skin was slow to respond as the gash was very deep but he continued on for what felt like an eternity. Fenris sat beside her, unconsciously taking her hand into his shaking one while the room fell quiet and observed. 

There were quiet whimpers and cries around them as the apostate healer focused. Fenris had his eyes glued to her motionless face in a panic while Merrill sat to the other side, clutching at Hawke's other hand. 

The wound finally closed and Anders shoulders relaxed and he sighed, relieved. 

"She will live." 

There were universal relieved sighs and smiles as the crowd began to cheer. Hawke remained unconscious as she was lifted carefully into the arms of Fenris. He was holding her tightly to his chest as he and their companions followed into the night towards her estate. 

"Champion!" they called collectively, as they disappeared from the Keep. 

 

\---

 

_Why are there so many people around me? I cannot stand laying here another moment, my back is so sore. If I open my eyes these strange people will see I'm awake and I don't want that. I just want them to leave._

"She's stirring!" 

_Shit._

Hawke's eyes opened slowly, stunned by the bright light around her. She was tucked into a red and gold bed and there was a window open somewhere bringing in a much welcome breeze. To the side were strange people looking expectantly at her. There was a tall woman with red hair and thick armor, a black-haired elf woman and a light-haired dwarf with prominent chest hair staring at her. 

A man with blond hair tied back approached with a warm smile. He quickly put his hand on her forehead, making her jump. 

_Who is this guy? Hasn't he heard of personal space?_

"Hawke, how are you feeling?" the strange, blond man was looking at her. 

"Who is Hawke?" she found herself asking. The man frowned and a dark-haired woman dressed in a revealing white tunic chuckled mirthlessly. 

"That's not funny, Hawke," the provocatively dressed woman said to her. Her grin vanished and the people's smiles followed with it. 

"I don't understand," she was shaking her head, and threw an arm over her eyes. She just wanted them gone and she wanted to protect herself from them. 

"Maker," another woman's voice said, in obvious surprise. 

"Hawke, look at me," there was the blond man's voice again. He had taken her arm and moved it away, forcing her to face the strange group. "What is your name?" 

She looked away and thought. There was... nothing. 

"I don't know." 

"Okay, who am I?" the man asked expectantly. 

"I don't know." 

"Do you remember anything?" 

_Shit, do I? There's only this room. I... can't remember. I don't know._

She shook her head and looked away again. 

"I fear she must have lost her memory," the man was telling the others around the room. There was silence for a while. 

"Can I be alone right now please?" she turned back, surprising the others from their thoughts, and they all looked to her. She was shaking, she knew that. They were stunned and she was scared. 

"I don't know if that's a good idea," the blond man was saying. "We need to help you." 

"Please. This is too much. I want to rest," she pleaded. The man's amber eyes were searching hers, as if expecting something to happen, and he sighed and nodded to the group. They filed out of the large, heavily decorated chamber and shut the door behind them.

_Whoever lives here must be very wealthy. Why am I here?_

There was a light thud to the side, interrupting her confused thoughts. An elven man clad in spiky armor stood by the open window, bare feet padding lightly across the carpet. Her heart seized in terror and she pulled the blankets over her. 

_No, no. He wants to hurt me._

"Hawke?" the elf was asking but she looked away and buried herself underneath the covers. Her breaths were shaky and her body trembled. She didn't know who this person was and why everyone was calling her 'Hawke' but she just wanted peace. There was a dip in the bed and the covers she kept tightly balled in her fist were ripped away from her. She shrieked and threw her arms over her face and chest as if to protect herself. 

"Hawke, what's wrong?" the stranger was asking, tattooed arm reaching for her. 

"Leave me alone!" she whimpered against her arms. 

"Please, Hawke. Tell me what's wrong. It's me," he was trying to sound gentle but she cried anyway. He looked so scary... 

"I don't know who that is! I don't know who you are, go away!" she cried out, refusing to look at the man as she cowered away from him. There were strong hands suddenly around her, pinning her arms back, forcing her to look at the stranger as he leaned over her. 

She screamed. 

The door slammed open and loud thudding echoed across the room as people ran in frantically. 

"Fenris!" she recognized the blond man's voice and the stranger released her. She crawled away from him, kicking herself out from under his spiky body. 

"Please, I think he wants to hurt me," she was sobbing into her knees as she pulled them close to her chest. She was aware that she was in a thick nightgown that reached her toes and that her hair was dark and a mess around her. 

"What? Hawke, I could never hurt you!" the stranger was speaking. 

"Her memory is lost, Broody," the dwarf was speaking to the stunned stranger on his knees. 

The blond man hurried to her side, and carefully sat beside her, putting an arm around the sobbing woman. 

"Sh, it's okay. My name is Anders and I am your friend. We are all your friends, I promise. No one wants to hurt you," the man called Anders was brushing her disheveled hair away from her tear-streaked face. She briefly saw the scary elf look angrily to the man beside her and then confused once his vibrant green eyes looked down to her. 

_This man, Anders, isn't scary. He smells like a library and his eyes are kind._

She buried herself against his chest seeking protection and hesitantly looked up to the confused group around her. She wished more than anything that she could understand. 

"We'll take care of you," Anders was whispering into her hair and she at least knew she would be safe there. 


	10. Remembering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Recommendation:  
> [Miike Snow - Silvia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ub_ox8HSSOw)

"Sweet thing, you've always been a natural," Isabela smirked from across the room, panting and sheathing her daggers. 

"Really?" Hawke asked her fellow rogue, confusion clouding her determined expression after sparring. The pirate frowned and shrugged. 

"Yes, Kitten. I suppose you wouldn't remember that though... Anyway it's not like you even need my help practicing anymore," she assured Marian as she wiped down her daggers and put them away. 

It had been three entire months of stumbling around Kirkwall in a constant daze with strange people she was forced to grow acquainted with. They were always around, watching over he as if she was a child. It was confusing and humiliating when she would try to do mundane things such as eating, and Merrill would hurry over to try and spoon-feed her. Anders was just as bad, always standing behind and watching over her shoulder while she tried to read or write letters. 

"I still think it's too soon," Anders complained from the side, his arms crossed and frowning at Isabela. She scoffed and raised her eyebrows, motioning to Hawke. 

"She's not incapable, Anders. Look at her, she's just as deadly as before! She kicked my ass back there!" 

"I'm not a baby, Anders," Hawke chimed in with a whine. 

"No, you're just an amnesiac recovering from life-threatening injuries," he retorted. 

" _Really?_ Why did no one tell me?" she gasped, sarcasm thick in her tone. He rolled his eyes at her and smiled slightly. 

It's not like she wasn't grateful for the help. Maker knew, she did sort of need it. She had never felt more scared or alone after waking up in her chamber and discovering she had no idea who she was or where she was. It was chilling to learn that she had no family to rely on and even more terrifying to learn that she had a thing with the scary elf who broke in through her window. Anders had explained the situation to her bitterly, his disdain for the elf apparent during his explanation. 

The healer approached her then, and reached out. His hand grazed her warm forehead as if checking for a fever and then he lightly brushed his thumb across her cheek. She stiffened against his touch, caught in his tender gaze. His amber eyes were looking into hers with that small smile he wore so easily. 

Marian was unsure how to feel around Anders. She was grateful that he cared so much for her but she knew she could not possibly share his feelings. He had made it obvious about his intentions towards her, always complementing and watching her. He had more than once kissed her cheek and laid a hand on her shoulder or the small of her back. It's not like it was completely unwelcome; she could admit to finding comfort in his touch and the way he smelled. In a way she wanted to share his feelings. He made her feel loved and cared for but it did not feel right. He was not _the one_. 

It was he who was there when she woke from a nightmare of green eyes burning into her while her wrist scorched. He would hold her hand and murmur soothing words before she returned back to sleep. He was basically her live-in caretaker and she felt indebted to him for it. Of course he would have to part during the day to attend to his patients in Darktown, but he would always return to check on her. 

"Come now, Blondie. I believe we have a meeting with a certain merchant-prince dwarf," Isabela interrupted, his hand immediately falling to the side. Marian let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding and stepped back. 

"Are you sure you'll be alright by yourself?" Anders looked back to her. 

"Just because I can't remember who I am doesn't mean I can't take care of myself. My wounds are healed and I have Bodahn and Orana in case I need help with anything. I'll be fine," she assured him with a smile. He softened at her smile and nodded. Isabela practically dragged Anders out of there, but not before giving her a "friendly" peck on the cheek and then flashing her a seductive wink. 

After she was alone, Marian headed up the stairs and entered her chamber. For the past month, her bed had become her sanctuary. She could not explain her desperate need for solitude anymore. There was a heavy weight baring down on her and she felt more like she was drowning than recovering. She would smile at her friends that she did not really know and eat when they told her to. Each day she would practice with her daggers and write letters because it was a duty that she knew nothing of. She was a good "Champion", whatever that meant. 

She stripped off her armor, leaving her in her loose cotton underclothes and slipped into her bed. Her mabari, Alexander, curled up at the foot of the bed as she hid away from the world. It was only mid afternoon and yet she was exhausted, like always. She yearned for some recognition to occur, for some feeling of belonging to happen but it never did. This was her bed, her room, her home and yet it wasn't. There was nothing of the life she had lived before left in her. 

Maker, she was so alone. Merrill, Anders, Aveline, Varric, and even Isabela were there often to talk to her and offer their support but it didn't feel... right. It was like they were always waiting for something, some miraculous epiphany to occur where she would burst from her seat and declare that she was normal again. She could do nothing but disappoint the people around her. 

There was a light tap on the door and Bodahn's cheerful voice on the other end. 

"Messere, there is a Mr. Fenris here to see you," he called. _That_ name... She bolted upright and tossed the sheets aside. 

Why would he be there to visit her? He had terrified her on the day she awoke and yet he never bothered to visit again. 

"Um... let him in," she responded nervously. She instinctively hugged her knees to her chest while Alexander became alert and growled at the door. Bodahn opened the door revealing the elf in his spiky armor standing with his arms behind his back. He bowed to Hawke before motioning for him to go through and shutting it behind him. 

"Hawke," his voice was low and stoic. 

She swallowed anxiously and mumbled out, "Fenris." 

"I apologize for not coming to visit you earlier," his arms fell to his sides and he looked at her. He was standing at the end of her bed, looking down at her clearly nervous figure curled up on the bed. "I scared you last time... I am sorry." 

"It's okay," she responded automatically. 

"I assume you now know who I am... who I was to you." 

She nodded and looked away from him to the empty fireplace. 

"I am sorry for what I put you through," his calm voice wavered and when she looked back to him his moss green eyes were sad and longing. She released her grip on her knees and shivered. There was something so incredibly familiar about him. The way he was staring at her and his voice was stirring something in her she couldn't quite understand. Her wrist burned and she winced. She clutched her wrist to her chest, holding it tightly with her other hand at the sudden shock. 

"Hawke?" he stepped around the corner of the bed and approached her quickly. 

"I'm fine," she lied. 

"You've always been a poor liar," he took her wrist into his hand and there was a terrible burn. 

_Father, Mother, Bethany, Carver. Lothering._

She cried out and pushed him away from her in agony. What was happening? 

"Hawke, did you see your family?" he asked seriously. There were tears falling from her absently and the strange scar was red and raw against her wrist. She nodded but couldn't possibly look at him. 

_They are gone. Bethany hates me and I can never see her again. Mother, Father and Carver are dead. Lothering is destroyed._

"I saw it too. Did no one explain?" he was asking her but she was barely paying attention. She had remembered them and now she wished more than anything that she didn't. She was so terribly alone. 

"I don't understand," she whimpered into a pillow that she now had clutched to her chest. 

"We have a sort of bond. That's why it hurts, Hawke," his deep voice was soft and less urgent now. She breathed out deeply and looked back to the concerned elf sitting cautiously on the side of her bed. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Merrill could explain this much better. We were marked with a bond and now we are sort of tied together," he looked at her helplessly frustrated with his own explanation. That made absolutely no sense. 

"I don't quite follow but I don't know if I can handle this right now," she admitted, her voice quiet and seemingly broken. He sighed and cautiously leaned forward. Her breath caught and her body froze as a tanned, calloused hand softly brushed a strand of hair stuck to her tear-streaked face back and behind her small ear. Marian's eyes shut as his fingers brushed against her skin and this felt... right. This was good. 

Something seemed to fall into place and she sighed into this gentle touch. This felt nothing like Anders hand, this was so much different. It was as if a weight had lifted from her and her heart thudded madly in her chest for the first time that she could remember. Maybe it was the way he was looking at her, his jade eyes pouring into hers. Or maybe it was the way he smelled of leather and something warm and spicy. Certainly, it had to be the way his fingers felt against her skin. It was electric. 

"Can I stay, Marian?" his voice drew her away from her thoughts and she opened her eyes to find him staring hopefully at her. His fingers were barely touching her cheek and yet this was enough. It was beautiful. She was slowly waking up from her confusing trance and she was alive. 

"Y-yes. Please," she breathed out quietly. The smallest smile brushed across his pale lips and she couldn't help but smile in response. 

"I can read to you, if you'd like," he suggested, his fingers still brushing against her cheek. She felt herself blush and yet she could not move or look away from him. How could she have ever been scared of this, of him? 

"I would like that, Fenris." 

 

\---

 

Fenris was there each night after he had come to her two weeks before. After her other friends would leave and they could be alone, he would show up after sundown with his book of fairy tales that he claimed she had gifted him. They would eat dinner with Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana or sometimes they would take their supper to her study where they would lounge together on the sofa in front of the fire while he would read children's stories to her. 

"-and so the maiden and the knight yearned for each other from afar." 

She was sitting directly next to him, yet still painfully not touching. He was so close to her and she could smell his spicy smell and feel his warmth yet she wanted so much more. She wanted that magical feeling of his fingers on her skin but she couldn't just ask that of him so casually. This was a different sort of arrangement, a renewed friendship and nothing more... The kind of friendship where he would read to her for hours and hours until she fell asleep.

"Co-coin," he stumbled and she flung her head up and looked over his shoulder to the book. 

"Coincidentally," she pronounced simply, making no grand gesture of correcting him or helping him with the word. Fenris had told her that she herself had been teaching him to read. In a way it made her proud because he was reading so smoothly except for the occasional slip-up with a longer word. Andraste, she loved hearing him speak. It was his voice that lulled her to a peaceful slumber. It was that deep tenor that paralyzed Hawke and made her shiver despite the warmth of the room. 

"Don't worry, Bodahn. I'm just checking up on her," she could hear Anders mutter on the other side of the study door. She straightened her back nervously and glanced at the door as the mage walked in. 

Immediately his eager eyes found her and then glanced over to Fenris perched next to her with the fairy tale book in his hands. The healer's amber eyes glared at the elf in surprise and... anger? 

"Fenris, I had not realized you would be here," Anders spoke to the elf, tone flat and annoyed. Marian frowned, she knew he had not particularly liked Fenris for some reason. 

"Yes, I have been reading with Hawke," he stated, his voice reverting back to its stoic demeanor. 

"I see. Well I just wanted to see how you've been doing, Hawke." 

"I'm alright, Anders. You do not need to worry about me," she assured him with a warm smile. He seemed to soften at her smile and returned it with a sad smile himself. 

"I shall take my leave then," he muttered quickly. Before she could respond he was already gone, the door hastily shut behind him. Marian frowned. 

"I think I may have hurt his feelings somehow," she looked back to Fenris who's lips were pursed in a thin line. 

"You need not worry about the Mage's feelings," he was clearly irritated and she sighed. 

"He is my friend, of course I worry." 

"Can you not see how he wants so much more than that?" he asked, the book shutting and falling to his side on the sofa. 

"I... know." 

"Do you want him?" he asked suddenly. He was looking strangely at her, eager and worried. She almost laughed but instead answered seriously. 

"No, I..." _I want you_ , "I do not." 

Fenris relaxed his posture and let out a heavy sigh. His eyes were wide and hopeful, and his mouth was quirked in that small smile she had been seeing much more often as of lately. 

"I'm glad," he was quiet but his voice was full of so much meaning her heart had stopped briefly in her chest. 

Fenris had picked the fairy tale book back up and she leaned back on the sofa, daring to lay her head upon his broad shoulder covered in only a thin tunic. She heard a tiny gasp escape him but he relaxed and resumed his story cautiously, yet so content. 


	11. The Images Stuck in your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning?  
> Song recommendation:  
> [Elliott Smith - Between the Bars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPD-a1FjUtU)

"That King of Ferelden sure is something," Varric muttered as he, Isabela, Fenris, and Hawke descended the stairs from the Keep into Hightown. King Alistair Theirin had just finished talking with Hawke about the fragile state of Kirkwall and the unrest among Orlais and the mages. He was not anything like you would possibly expect a king to be at all. 

"I mean, he even let it slip that he worried about his lover away on some freaky Warden-y mission." 

"Well, have you seen the Hero of Ferelden?" Isabela said with a sly smirk. "Kallian Tabris is a hot little number who has been with Alistair from the very start. Did I tell you about the time I met them?" 

"No," Hawke raised a black brow, everyone completely expecting a dirty embellishment of the supposed encounter. 

"Oh, don't look at me like that! It's not like I didn't offer, but those two were pretty crazy for each other. It was sort of like how Hawke and Fenris are with each other." Immediately Fenris growled and Hawke's cheek grew red. 

"I'm not like anything!" Marian stammered, face flushed and looking to her feet. Isabela and Varric gave each other a knowing look while Fenris glowered at them. 

"Kitten, you're not fooling anyone." 

"Anyway, is anyone coming with me to help with my dearest Uncle's weird gem problem?" Hawke said quickly, changing the subject as they headed into Lowtown. 

"You know I wouldn't miss one moment of you and Fenris fumbling over each other," Varric snorted and Isabela agreed. 

Of course then Hawke's feet decided to grow a mind of their own and start sliding down the narrow steps into Lowtown. Marian's surprised shriek had half of Kirkwall staring up in surprise while Varric tried in vain to grab hold of the most clumsy rogue in existence's arm. There was a flash and a cold _whoosh_ in the air as her feet collided painfully with the stone steps. Fenris appeared suddenly on the step below and she crashed directly into his arms. He had swept up her feet and was cradling her so quickly she could hardly believe what was happening. 

Marian Hawke's cheeks were flaming now and she hesitantly peaked up to look at her savior who had the slightest grin on his face. Despite that, his forest green eyes were peering into her's, concerned and she found herself both unable to speak and look away. 

 

_A massive ogre rounding the corner, running straight for her family. She called for them to stay back but of course he wouldn't ever listen to her._

_"Carver, don't!" she screamed at him, as he ran to meet the ogre halfway, sword raised and a battle cry erupting from his lungs. She couldn't get there fast enough, she couldn't stop it she could only keep screaming. Her feet refused to run fast enough and she could not save him. He was lifted into the air and tossed wildly around. He was gone._

 

Marian gasped and shook violently against the elf as he held her against his chest more tightly. She could hear the concerned voices of her friends wondering what the hell was happening but she didn't even really know herself. 

"She remembered her brother," she heard Fenris explain quietly. Her breaths were coming fast and uneven and she wasn't aware of the tears that slipped down her cheeks until the Pirate Queen's soft hand reached out and wiped them away with her thumb. 

"How do you know that?" Varric questioned. 

"The bond, remember?" Fenris stated simply. 

"Let go. I-I need to be alone," she was pushing away from Fenris and his arm dropped from under her knees in surprise. 

"Hawke." 

She stepped out of his embrace, despite her body and heart protesting. She was not in a good place right now; her head was spinning and she felt sick. She started to step back up the steps into Hightown but not before Fenris reached and grabbed her wrist. 

 

_"You must take care of them now for me, my sweet girl," Malcolm held his fourteen-year old daughter's hand against his heart and looked up to her. His brown eyes so like hers looked past Marian and then... there was nothing left. Mother sobbed into her hands while Bethany held onto Marian's other hand. Carver said nothing, just staring in sullen silence. She couldn't let go. Not until his hand was cold against hers._

 

_"You never meant anything to me," Eddy said peering at Marian with a sneer on his face. He sat among his friends by the Chantry who were all now laughing at her openly. Her fists clenched and she bit her tongue to try and control her anger. "Your sister, however..."_

_There went her self control. The fiercely tough, fifteen-year old rogue's dagger was unsheathed from her boot and the boy was shoved back against the wall, dagger pinching at his throat while she held him back, eyes locking him in place._

_"No, you shit. You never meant anything to me. You stay far from my sister," she spat out and then motioned to the other boys around him, "- and that goes for all of you."_

_She released him and spit at his feet, sheathing her dagger and turning away. They said nothing and watched her walk hurriedly back to her family's farmhouse while hot tears slipped down her cheeks uncontrollably._

 

_"My name is Fenris," he was looking at her. Those brilliant eyes were pouring into hers and she couldn't move. How could she possibly find words? She was paralyzed and speechless standing before the single most beautiful and deadly person she had ever laid eyes on._

_"It's a pleasure, Fenris. You c-can call me Hawke," her soft pink lips turned up in a small smile and he stared at her with a confused expression on his face. She knew how much of a nervous fool she looked in front of this perfect specimen._

_"Hawke," he spoke slowly, as if testing the sound of her name on his tongue. Maker, the way he said her name had her knees weak and the silliest grin plastered on her face. She would follow this man into anything just to hear him say her name._

 

_"Maker, Hawke... you're pregnant," Anders was looking at her, astonished, as his glowing hands hovered over her abdomen. In that moment so many emotions ran through her that she felt sick once more. What a fool she was to drink so much the night before. Wait did she actually want this?_

_She remained quiet for a while as Anders watched her intensly. He looked so... confused and somewhat sad. She was only twenty-one and the man she thought she loved had abandoned her. What could possibly make her think he would welcome the idea of a child if he had rejected her?_

_Yet... Something had stirred inside of her that she didn't know was even there. She was scared, Maker knew how terrifying this was to her, but she didn't completely detest this idea. Maybe she would be happy. Maybe she would have a little girl who looked like her with Fenris's bright eyes who could wield daggers like herself. Or maybe she would be a strong warrior like her father or maybe, quite possibly, the child would be a mage like her dear sister who was simultaneously destructive and soothing._

_In the corner of her eye she noticed a vase with white lilies and her heart stopped. Where was her mother?_

 

Fenris watched her come around, her eyes frantic and expression lost. He had seen everything, every memory she could recall and it was all too familiar. He knew more than anyone what it felt like to have memories of a life you could not remember all come flashing back in a rush. Hawke snapped out of it, panting, and started charging up the stairs just to get away. She knew he would try to follow but she hoped more than anything that he would understand. As she turned to the market, people dashed out of her way as she hurried to her estate. Bodahn would certainly leave her be and no one would bother her. She could crawl into her bed and stay there until this all just _stopped_. 

The door to the estate was thrown open and she hurried inside, slamming the door behind her as she bolted up the stairs to her chambers. She carelessly tossed her boots into a corner somewhere and began to shed her suddenly heavy and cramped armor. The sun had set fully by the time she slipped into her sheets and a cool breeze swept across the all-too large room. This place was much too empty. She had no family to share it with and no other roommates. Her friends would come by to check on her, mostly Fenris, but eventually she was always left alone. Everyone would always have to go. 

It did not hurt for a long time. She remembered nothing, so how could it hurt? How could one feel loss when she couldn't even remember those who were once so dear to her? Hawke was not prepared for it all to come back. Bits and pieces came flooding back into place, foggy memories reemerging to torment her. 

She didn't want to remember the deaths of her family, her first rejection from someone she was fond of, or the Blight that devastated Ferelden. Her body wracked with sobs as she cowered into her red, satin pillow. This bed brought back nothing but memories of a night she had spent in the arms of the man she had loved. He didn't love her back. That was one of the memory's that hurt her the most. 

Hawke remembered a night a couple years ago, her nameday celebration, and Isabela's gift of fine Ferelden rum tucked inside her wardrobe. She hurriedly forced herself out of bed and began tossing clothing and linens from her wardrobe until she found her bottle and popped it open. There was no other option available at the moment, she could no longer have it hurt. 

 

\---

 

"Fenris, have you seen Hawke recently?" Merrill was looking at him, large green eyes curious and unaware of Hawke's dilemma. He sighed deeply and looked back to his deck of cards. He was disastrously losing this round of Wicked Grace and folded out. 

"No," he refrained from referring to her as 'witch' or 'blood mage' because usually Hawke would give him a look. Even after she had lost her memory, she still took a liking to the blood mage greatly which was something he could never understand. Yet Hawke... was not here as she should be. The truth was, he was a blighted coward. He couldn't find it in himself to face her after two days of hearing nothing. 

Oh, he dreamed of her and yet they did meet in the Fade. He saw her memories, however painful or embarrassing they may of been for her. He felt her sorrow and her loneliness from across Hightown and his wrist and chest ached in response. Briefly, he glanced down to the now faded, intricate scar that looked distinctly like the letter 'M'. He was nothing but a coward. He had left her while she had always been there for him. Even after her injury fighting the Arishok, she still saw him and made time for him. They resumed their reading lessons and he was there every night to read with her or share a bottle of wine. He wanted that so much once more. 

His heart seized in his chest and the scar flashed a bright blue, scorching the skin around it raw. Hawke was in deep, deep turmoil. He felt her pain, and the way her heart ached for help. Fenris felt every emotion paralyze him: sorrow, loneliness, despair, and a small chance of hope. It wasn't enough. It could never be enough. She could no longer live with the choices she had made or the loss she had endured. 

"Kitten, Hawke will be back soon," Isabela assured her, snatching Fenris away from his thoughts. He shoved his chair back and turned from the group hurriedly, avoiding any surprised stares or questions. He needed to get to her _now_. 

His heart was thudding madly in his chest when he burst open the entrance to the Hanged Man. There was a chill bite to the air with the autumn winds that swept across Kirkwall, promising a rare cold winter to follow. His bare feet padded against the cold stone steps as he jumped up the stairs into Hightown, stepping through the Fade any chance he could just to get to her faster. 

Fenris cried out miserably for her as he ran. "Hawke!" 

He shouted her name, praying to the Maker that she would hear him and would _stop_. He rounded the corner from the Market and soon her estate was in sight. He cared not for courtesy when he slammed the entrance open and burst through, ignoring a startled Bodahn and Sandal. He jumped up the stairs and kicked open her chamber door just in time to see her pull a noose around her neck that hung from her canopy bed. 

"Hawke, don't!" he cried, desperation thick in his voice, but her feet were already stepping off the side of the bed. 

He thrust himself through the Fade and snatched her into his arms as she fell. He lifted her into the air, panting and swearing while the noose slipped from her neck. When he was sure she was free, he pulled her back into his arms and let out an uncontrollable sob. 

" _Marian_ ," he whispered her name, face buried into her still-breathing chest. His ear was pressed firmly to her chest above her heart, listening to the sound of its rapid beating like it was the most precious sound in all of Thedas. He felt her body quake beneath his and heard her sniffling. He chanced a look up at her face to find her dark eyes studying him cautiously. In that moment he felt no care for the tears that slipped from his eyes and onto her cotton shift. She looked so... lost. Yet there was something behind the obvious sorrow and it encouraged him to speak. 

"Please, I cannot bear to live a life without you. I would have never known true freedom if it was not for you. I would follow you anywhere, but this..." he looked down to the noose that still hung from her mahogany canopy and then back to her. "I could not handle this. You are a part of me now and if this was your fate I could not continue to live with the other half of me missing." 

Hawke's guard fell and her chest heaved with a sob. His hands held her face and he pressed his forehead to hers. 

"I am yours," he promised, his voice low with unwavering conviction. She sobbed once more and threw her arms around his neck, pressing him closer to her. 

"Fenris, I remembered everything," she spoke quietly. He did not move, keeping his forehead pressed to hers as his moss eyes met with her dark chocolate ones. 

"I know Hawke. Forgive me... for everything," he breathed out. She shook her head. 

"Oh Fenris, I did not resort to such methods not just because I did not think you loved me. I am so alone. All of my family is gone and my... _our_ baby was taken from me. How can I live with this much hurt?" she asked seriously, new tears sliding down her reddened cheeks as she sniffled. 

"With me. I cannot promise you that I can take away all of your pain but I know more than anyone how you feel and will stand with you to overcome this as you have done for me. I should never have left you that night. I have realized since then that nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you..." he felt her body relax slightly against his and he slowly pulled back to look at her. 

"I'm so sorry," she cried, looking back to the rope tied across her bed. He walked forward and untied it quickly, snatching the rope away and crossing to the other side of the room. Without hesitation, he tossed the rope into the fire and looked over his shoulder at her. Hawke's back was to him, dark tousled hair lifting in the breeze that blew in from the window. The moonlight poured into the room lighting the room in conjunction with the warm glow of the fire, illuminating her milky skin. He stepped back to her while removing his armor. 

She turned then to look at him, her red rimmed eyes threatening more tears but paused when she gazed at her elf. He stood only in his linen trousers, the lyrium lines visible on his chest and back which she had not seen since he had taken her in this very room. He watched her as her breath caught and he stepped bravely back to her. 

"I am yours," he repeated quietly and assuredly when his arms took refuge around her waist. One hand lifted her chin from his shoulder to gaze at him and resolved, his lips captured hers once more after so long. How could he hold anything back after everything that had happened? Each night he yearned for her touch which he forfeited from himself the moment he had left her bed. He remembered each kiss, the way her body responded to him, the way she had smiled and told him how perfect he was. 

Now here he was, in her chambers once more with his lips pressed against hers unabashedly. Something inside of him stirred and came to life so quickly, he had to pull away, panting. This was his home now. Wherever she went in this world, he would follow. She was his home, his life and he could never find another purpose. 

Fenris took her hand and sat on her bed, pulling her into his lap. He continued to pull her into his arms as he lay against the pillows, her head finding comfort in his broad chest. The lyrium hummed beneath his skin where she lay and ever so slightly glowed when she placed a hand on him next to her head. 

"Promise me that you won't leave me," she said suddenly, shooting her head up, eyes panicked. He shook his head and held her closer. 

"I will not leave you. If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side," he promised before he once more pressed his lips to hers. She softened into his touch and her breath wavered when she pulled back. 

That night Fenris had made love to her many times more but he kept true to his word. This time, he had stayed. 

 

\---

 

Hawke was by no means completely better. She still mourned for her family and even dreamed of them in the Fade but Fenris had kept his promise. Once again, they would meet in the Fade and Hawke would show him the life she had lived with her family long before the Blight. He held her hand as she watched her father pick up a young Marian and swing her onto his shoulders. 

It was the first time Fenris had seen Malcolm Hawke in her dreams and the resemblance was certainly there in the way Marian had smiled. She had taken her father's coloring with her dark hair and eyes and had inherited his charming smile and cheerful demeanor. It made him wonder what any future children of theirs would look like. 

"Hawke," he had said to her one morning after spending the past month in her estate. By now, he had practically moved into her home. Bodahn had welcomed him easily enough but Orana was still nervous. 

They were sitting in the kitchen, Hawke sipping a warm, spicy tea while he nibbled on a blueberry scone. She looked up at him and her expression immediately lifted into that beautiful smile meant just for him. More and more each day, she had been caught smiling at him each time he passed or looked at her. The loneliness she had felt before was significantly lessened now that Fenris was here to stay with her. 

"Yes?" she answered, her smile unwavering. He couldn't help but reveal a small smile as he stepped towards her, finishing the last bite of his scone before he placed an arm around her waist. 

"Would you ever consider bearing a child of mine someday?" 

The question had certainly caught her off guard. Her smile faltered a bit, remembering the fate of her last child she would have bore him. Yet she looked back to him, his expression serious and hopeful and her mood brightened slightly. 

"Yes, I would very much like that... some day," she assured him. She was now strict about drinking a certain tea each week to ensure that wouldn't happen again. Hawke had realized she was in no state to be a mother as of yet but she knew one day she would be glad to start a family with this man. He beamed at her and pressed her body closer to his. 

"I have been thinking more and more about how we shall spend our lives together and the idea is welcome. When I was a slave, I never would have even dreamed of having children, no less even having a lover," he explained, his mouth pressed to the hair against her small ear. She shivered as he spoke. "Starting a family with the woman I love will give me more freedom than you can possibly imagine." 

A thick voice cleared from the side but Fenris remained pressed to Hawke when he turned with a scowl to Varric. 

"Dwarf," he growled in greeting but Hawke nonetheless giggled against his shoulder. 

"Elf," Varric mused but then turned to Hawke and said, "I believe we have some business down at the Bone Pit once more, if you remember?" 

She groaned and begrudgingly stepped out of Fenris's arms but grinned and said, "alright, it can't be that bad this time anyway," before they set out with Varric and Aveline in tow. The entire way to the Bone Pit, Fenris had never let go of Hawke's hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: attempted suicide


	12. High Dragons and Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song recommendation:  
> [The Dodos - Ashley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQ53P2MDFv4)

Andraste's tits, it was a _high dragon_. One can only imagine the surprise Hawke's crew felt when they approached the burning path littered with charred bodies. Fenris immediately yanked Hawke around and demanded that they turn back but it was too late. A shrill shriek interrupted their conversation and a horrific, large red dragon burst forth. 

"Run!" Hawke cried as Fenris dragged her down the path away from the dragon with Aveline and Varric on their heels. 

"Maker, this is the pit!" Aveline shouted when the dragon flew back once more and landed directly in front of them. There was not another chance to run away. Hawke swallowed anxiously and looked over to Fenris. His expression was stoic but the fear was clear in his eyes. Not for himself, but for _her_. 

"Please don't catch yourself on fire," Hawke breathed out with a tiny, nervous smile. Fenris let out a large breath and turned back to the dragon. 

"I will not as long as you don't either." 

With that, Hawke's daggers were drawn and she was charging to the dragon with Fenris wielding his greatsword by her side. She lunged forward into a roll beneath the heavy beast to strike at its hind legs. She could hear Aveline's battle cry and the whistle of Bianca's bolts from behind as they attacked from the front. The dragon tried to claw and kick Hawke but she had ducked and jumped to the side each time to avoid being hit before continuing to plunge her daggers into its leg. Fenris appeared then, having Fade-jumped and began to hack at its tail. She saw the creature's tail swing out suddenly and come rushing forth into Fenris, tossing him carelessly several feet into jagged rocks. 

"Fenris!" 

Hawke threw herself upward, slicing one dagger into its belly and then, using all her might, she dragged the dagger forward spilling massive amounts of thick blood onto her and the ground. She rolled to the front, facing the dragon head on as it fell, an anguished cry echoing across the pit. From the side, she noticed Aveline and Varric had just finished off the last of the baby drakes and turned back to the slowly dying beast. Her knees almost gave out at the sight of so much blood and Maker knows what else all over her, but she brushed it off. Daggers raised high above her head, she bounded forward and crushed them through the dragon's skull. 

She could hear no one else as she rolled off of the dragon and ran to her love. The scar on her wrist seemed to vibrate as she ran to him, feeling the incredible amount of pain he was in. His body was contorted in a grotesque way against the rocks and when she came closer, she could see the blood pooled around his limp form. Both legs were clearly broken, the cracked bone protruding from his left shin and right knee. 

_Blighted idiot, why didn't I bring Anders?_

"Fenris!" she gasped and fell to her knees next to him to see his expression wracked with torment. She was already pulling the remaining elfroot potions from her belt and cradling his head into her lap when his green eyes met hers. There was anguish in them and a flicker of relief when he saw her. She gently smoothed his white hair away from his forehead and placed a potion to his lips. 

"Drink," she urged him, her voice quiet and soothing. He obeyed immediately and tried his best to swallow the disgusting concoction. She tossed the empty flask aside when Varric and Aveline approached. 

"Well nug shit..." Varric muttered when they saw Fenris. Hawke glared up and said slowly and authoritatively. 

" _Get help_." 

"On it," Aveline stated and Varric grunted in approval but not before tossing Hawke his remaining health potions. "I will get Anders." 

Fenris groaned weakly in protest and Hawke let out a humorless laugh. 

"I'm sorry Fenris, you're going to have to suck it up. He's probably the best healer in Thedas," she assured him before she popped open another potion and assisted him in drinking it. Despite her calm appearance, Varric noted her hands were shaking and her eyes were wild as she tried to comfort her elf. 

Aveline ran off leaving Varric to watch over Hawke and Fenris. The elf's unsteady breathing and Hawke's shaking was beginning to worry the dwarf. He looked back to Fenris and was taken aback by just how awful he had looked. There was blood absolutely everywhere, though to be fair a significant amount was dripping from Hawke herself. The sight of bone sticking out of his body made Varric feel nauseous and he couldn't understand how she had put up with the sight and remained calm. 

"Keep talking to me, Fenris," he heard Hawke speak to the elf, his large eyes beginning to droop. 

"I-I do not know what to say," he choked out, voice barely above a whisper. 

"Tell me about where else it hurts, other than your legs," she insisted, her hands gripping his tightly to her chest. She was too terrified to move him off of the jagged rocks for fear that she would paralyze him. All she could do was hold his hand and cradle his seemingly uninjured head in her lap. 

"My... back," he breathed. She sucked in a quick breath; she had feared he would say that. 

"Anywhere else, my love?" 

Varric's brows shot up and he whipped back around, stunned. He had seen the two this morning in Hawke's kitchen embracing but he hadn't thought they had reconciled. It was about damned time. He mentally took note of the two for the draft he was working on about Hawke's adventures. Here directly in front of him was the perfect romance for his tale: a fated bond from the gods tying them together for life, Fenris's hang up about his old life as a slave, Hawke's torture and memory loss, and finally their reconciliation. 

"You'd better get out of this alive, Elf," Varric mumbled to himself. 

 

\---

 

Marian had spent more than an hour trying to comfort and distract Fenris until Anders had showed up carrying a satchel of supplies. It was the mage himself who had moved Fenris from the rocks onto soft ground and immediately set to work with Hawke standing worriedly at the sidelines. The mage did not protest or try to fight Fenris while the injured elf had been barking and threatening him the entire time. 

" _Do not touch me, Abomination,"_ he had growled. Anders just simply ignored him and focused entirely on healing. Hawke had held Fenris's hand as Anders reset the bone in each leg, almost unable to bear his howling in pain. She had never once seen him like this before; it was always the clumsy rogue getting hurt, not her strong warrior. 

By the time the wounds were closed and wrapped up and Fenris's back was checked and cracked back into place, it had been late in the afternoon. Anders had stepped back and let out a long sigh. The mage's face was pale and hollow and his whole body slightly shook. Hawke happily threw her arms around him and fed him lyrium potions, thanking him repeatedly for helping her love. Somehow that only seemed to make Anders feel even more weak. 

She and Aveline had helped support Fenris all the way back into Kirkwall and into her chambers when she was finally left alone with him. He was fast asleep in the middle of her bed, his bloodied clothes removed and both of his wrapped legs propped up on pillows. Hawke had finally glanced in the mirror to see her state and almost jumped at the sight. Her hair was completely matted in dried blood and chunks of flesh. Her skin was stained red and her armor was crusted over. She looked like an abomination herself. 

Although it pained her to leave his side she quickly went out to her garden and tossed off her armor, leaving her in just a blood stained shift before she began to hose herself off. Bodahn would never forgive her for staining the tub in dragon blood. After she was adequately rinsed, she left her armor with Bodahn and quickly ran a bath for herself before tossing away her ruined shift. After she was immersed in the steaming water and had thoroughly scrubbed at her hair and skin with her soaps and shampoos, she hurried back into the chamber wrapped only in a thin towel. Her hair was still slightly damp when she entered, unashamedly throwing her towel to the side and walking to her wardrobe to change. 

"You... do not have to do that," his croaked voice made her jump but she settled and smiled nonetheless. She immediately covered her chest with her arms and turned to the side. He had seen her naked many times since their reunion but she still felt embarrassed.

"Do what?" she had asked somewhat shyly. She heard him chuckle and knew he was reaching a hand out to her. She turned and let her arms fall to her sides, exposing her completely naked form to him and shivered as his eyes ran up her body. 

"Come to bed, my love," he urged her with a growl and a faint grin. His green eyes were now dark and hungry as he beckoned her forward with his hand. Her knees felt weak as she stepped forth, taking his hand and gently sitting beside him. 

"Fenris... you are in no state for that right now," she hated herself for saying it but the thought of causing him any more pain terrified her. 

He sighed and pulled her closer to him, her head resting on his shoulder and her arm now across his chest. 

"I thought," she began but her voice cracked with emotion. "I was so scared. Please don't do that to me again." 

A tear had escaped and slipped down her cheek, his thumb immediately coming to brush it away. She shivered against his touch and lifted her head to kiss his cheek but before she could, he had turned suddenly and captured her lips instead. 

"I cannot lose you," she whispered against his warm cheek once he pulled away. He bit her bottom lip lightly and tugged. She melted against his mouth and all fear had seemed to evaporate. 

"You will never lose me, Marian." 

"Promise me, Fenris," she said as she wrapped her finger around a white strand of hair that fell astray over Fenris's eyes. She felt his lips curl in a smile against hers. 

"I promise, Marian. I am yours." 

She beamed and tilted her head slightly to gaze at him. There were dark bags under his eyes and his face looked especially weary. 

"I love you, Fenris," she responded, eyes looking intently into his to show her meaning. He pulled her into another kiss once more before they fell asleep wrapped in each others arms. 

 

\---

 

Anders saw her enter his clinic and his heart skipped, just like it always did. Her dark waves had recently been cut to just below her shoulder to meet her collarbone and yet it still blew around effortlessly with the wind. She wore her usual, formfitting, black armor with her daggers sticking up behind her back. Her eyes searched around the room for him but he quickly looked back to his healing hands working their magic over a patient. 

" **She doesn't love you,** " Justice stated simply. Anders sighed heavily and tried to keep himself from looking up at Marian approaching him. Maker, he knew very well that she did not love him. He wanted her to more than anything but he could never compete with Fenris. They had some weird magical bond and Anders could never get between them. 

" **Let her go.** " 

"Anders," he could hear the smile in her voice before he looked up to her standing before him, on the other side of the cot where the now unconscious patient lay. 

"Marian," he greeted, trying to hide the sorrow in his voice with a small smile. It couldn't quite reach his eyes. 

"I'm here to pick up those potions you were telling me about for Fenris," she explained to him, her smile never leaving her beautiful face. Sometimes it was hard to remember just how young she was. Marian was always so headstrong and sure of herself; a natural leader. It was hard to believe that she was now nearing only twenty-four and he was almost a decade older. 

He cleared his throat and nodded, unable to find the right words. They walked to the cabinets on the other side of the clinic and he felt her eyes on him the entire time as he rummaged through the various potions, salves, and poultices. His clinic had been a mess before Merrill had taken to assisting him a couple times a week. The Dalish mage had taken it upon herself to organize the herbs and various supplies while Anders had taught her basic healing magic. He wished she were here now, it wouldn't feel nearly as awkward with their mutual close friend there to help.

"Here you go. For the next week he should just take a sip about once a day to ensure that his legs have healed properly. He should remain on bed rest until the week is up. It's too risky to take any chances right now," Anders reverted back to the authoritative healer that he was, ignoring the longing he felt so deep in his heart. 

Marian nodded understandingly and looked into his eyes, a look of concern passing her features. 

"Anders, how have you been lately?" 

There was no way he could answer her honestly. He was simply terrible. Justice had him up at all hours of the night, writing nonsense in his manifesto that he himself could barely understand. Proper meals were a thing of the past and now he only ate the scarce snacks Merrill had left around for him. The mage underground was near nonexistent now that Knight-Commander Meredith had taken a more severe approach to locking down the mages. Justice was restless and begging him every hour to move and do something important. Apparently tending to the needy each day was a tedious task not worthy enough for their cause. Of course, Anders told her none of this. 

"I am well," he said with another smile. He wished he was a better actor. He could see the corners of her mouth barely twitch in a slight frown, knowing that he was lying. 

"Is there anything I can help with?" she suggested. He knew that she only meant tending to patients and helping organize the place for a bit but he needed to take this chance, otherwise he would never find the strength to. 

"As a matter of fact, yes," his somber mood perked up a bit and he tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. He couldn't help but feel like she had no business being involved in something like this. 

" **It is for the best,** " and with that he quieted his doubt and asked her. Of course she said yes, she always wanted to help. 

_Maker, what have I done?_


	13. Running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, after this I only have an epilogue left to write. Hope you've enjoyed it!  
> Song recommendation:  
> [Tycho - Awake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XJBDX3Z0BY)

Kirkwall was on fire. 

When Hawke emerged from her Hightown estate after hearing a thundering boom that shook the very foundation of her home, she immediately took in the scene before her. There was screaming and crying with people frantically running about, the streets were filled with rubble and debris and when she finally looked up she could scarcely believe her eyes. The Chantry was no more. 

A sickening feeling in her gut had her clutching at the handle on her door for support. 

_No... Maker, please don't let him be involved in this._

Hawke swallowed back the urge to vomit directly on the street and instead hurried back into her home. Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana were situated in front of the fire in the foyer looking to her for support. 

"Bodahn, I have a very bad feeling about this. Pack your things just in case and please... take care of Orana," her eyes met the frightened green of Orana's and she felt sick once more. She knew this was her fault. It had to be. How could she take care of her friends? 

"Of course, Mistress Hawke. Orana is always welcome with me and my boy," Bodahn assured her. She tried for a smile and then quickly turned to the stairs to seek out Fenris. Her knees threatened to give out and she fought back tears as she hurriedly opened the door. 

Fenris was on alert in an instant, jumping up from the bed despite his orders to rest easy after his injury. She must have looked horrible for the look on her lover's face was filled with concern and worry. 

"Marian, what is going on?" he demanded while she stood in the doorway trying to keep her stomach settled.

"The... Chantry. It has been destroyed. I-I think, I don't know-" 

" _Abomination,_ " he snarled, the lyrium thrumming and dimly beginning to glow under his skin. Nope, she couldn't hold it down after all. 

Her knees gave out then and her arms flailed about for the nearest bowl before she promptly emptied the contents of her stomach. 

_My fault. It's all my fault. He did this, and I helped him._

"Hawke!" she felt his presence when he bent and gently brushed her dark hair back into his hands. She normally would have been embarrassed had she not been throwing up so violently. Her voice cracked with a sob as she wiped her mouth with the cloth Fenris passed her. His hand was surprisingly cool and gentle against her while he soothed her shaking body. She quickly rinsed out her mouth with a glass of water Fenris had brought her and stood away from the bowl of sick, albeit clumsily. 

"Fenris, we need to find the others. I don't know what's going on out there but it's my job to try and save this place," the words were spilling from her mouth without a second thought and her love just raised an eyebrow speculatively. 

"If the abomination has done this, then we must leave now. You've associated with him Hawke, the city knows this," he countered, holding her shoulders to look into her eyes pleadingly. She sighed and looked away from his desperate gaze. 

"We can, I promise. Right now though, I must try and help," Hawke was determined and Fenris knew there would be no point in trying to convince her, no matter how much he disliked this idea. 

So they flew from the estate after donning their armor and equipping their potion supplies towards Lowtown where Merrill, Isabela, and Varric would no doubt be. They ran past the chaotic crowd hand in hand until they finally reached the bottom of the steps where none other than the healer himself was situated. 

Hawke's scarred wrist brushed against Fenris's and a surge of electricity channeled through their bodies. She looked up to him for assurance and he gladly squeezed her hand and nodded. 

She looked back to the mage, his once bright feathered coat now dyed an ominous black. His amber eyes sought hers and within them she saw no regret, no hesitation. She saw sadness, yes, but in that there was a determination that she could hardly understand. He was not sorry. 

"Anders..." she called as she stood before him, arms falling weakly to her sides. Merrill, Isabela, Varric, Aveline and Donnic were standing behind the mage shifting and looking about uncomfortably. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and looked back up to her. 

"Marian, I had no choice." 

_He did do this. I let him do this._

She sucked in a breath and looked away, trying to mask the tears that were now slipping past the barrier. Her friend, her dear friend, had committed such an atrocious crime. The healer of all people who could have done this, the man who's job was to protect and care for innocent people. He had probably killed some of his own patients. Hundreds perhaps. 

"There always was a choice, Anders," she looked back to him, her voice weary and sad. For a moment a flicker of emotion passed in his warm eyes but she knew it was not for those he had killed. It was for upsetting her. 

He shook his head and laughed without mirth. 

"Don't you see? This had to be done otherwise they would never listen. The mages have been oppressed for too long and _you_ know it! This was the only option," he was arguing and then realization dawned, churning her already upset stomach once more. 

"The mages will be blamed for this! They will be slaughtered just like those innocents you killed today!" she cried in horror. Anders stood and looked at her, determined. 

"Then let us fight for them," he made to take her hand but she stepped back, shakily. 

"You must know there are many who want you dead..." her mouth felt numb saying those words. His eyes grew wide but then he calmed himself and sat back upon the crate with his back to her. 

"In that case... I am glad it would be you who does it," his voice was solemn and resolute. She couldn't help but scowl. 

"I-I cannot do this. Leave this place and run," she began, stepping forward and taking his shoulder, tugging him back up to stand. He spun around, mouth agape at her and began to protest. 

"Marian-" 

"Please, Anders. I will not kill my friend. You must leave now or you will never again have the opportunity," she was still holding his shoulder, her dark eyes locking with his and he shivered. He nodded his head once and stepped closer to Marian. She swallowed nervously before his hand wove into her long hair and he lightly kissed her brow. She watched as he looked one last time behind her at their companions and turned away, hurrying into an alleyway. 

Fenris was once more at her side and she felt his hand intertwine with hers. 

"Please don't tell me how I've made the wrong decision," she murmured but he simply shook his head. 

"The decision was yours and I stand with you no matter what," he assured her. 

 

\---

 

Orsino resorted to blood magic. Of course when Marian decided she must save the mages she hadn't anticipated she would need to save the mages from themselves. When the fight was over and Orsino was lying dead beneath their feet, a familiar voice clearing in the distance had Marian whipping her head up to look around. 

There stood Bethany, her younger sister dressed in the typical garb of a Circle Mage, her once long hair like hers now cut just below her chin and her very demeanor more elegant and graceful. When the sisters locked eyes, Bethany let out an incredulous sob and after a moment of standing in shock, they ran to each other. The pair threw their arms around each other, crying tears of relief. 

"Marian, I am so glad you're okay. I thought with the Chantry gone that you might have been hurt too," the younger Hawke pulled back to examine Marian as if she might very well have been injured. 

"I am fine, Bethy. This has all been such a mess..." she felt overwhelmed with emotion, realizing just how much the sisters have missed. Marian and Bethany were only eighteen and seventeen when they were separated and now at barely twenty-four Marian was now witnessing her sister as a young woman. She was no longer the scared teenager Marian felt she had to protect and yet... they were both vulnerable. They had both mourned alone and given up hope of ever being a family again. 

"I was so angry, Mari. I never should have been. I should have written you more often, I-" 

Marian shook her head, interrupting her sister as tears streamed down both of their cheeks. 

"At least we are together now," Hawke smiled and Bethany followed suit. Her companions were off at the side, watching the heartfelt family reunion with tears in their own eyes. Bethany brushed her thumb against the scar at Marian's wrist and frowned. 

"What is this?" she asked incredulously. "It looks like magic of some sort!" 

"I'll catch you up on that later. For now, we need to take care of Meredith and then get the hell out of Kirkwall," she insisted, with a light squeeze to her sister's hand before she stepped away and back into Fenris's arms. Looking back up, she noticed the look of shock on Bethany's face and couldn't help but giggle. 

"It's good to have you back, Sunshine," Varric stepped up and wrapped an arm around the mage's waist before Merrill, Aveline, and Isabela hurried forth to greet the long thought lost Hawke sister happily. 

"We'll give you all the gory details later, I swear," Isabela promised with a smirk and a wink before the group set out to meet the Templars in the Gallows.

 

\---

 

Kirkwall was still in flames by the time Isabela had expertly navigated her ship out of the harbor. Merrill was braiding Bethany's cropped hair below deck while Varric absentmindedly shuffled through a deck of cards, seemingly deep in thought. Isabela was no doubt engaged in some _activities_ with a member of her crew she had been eyeing all evening in the captain's quarters. Aveline and Donnic had stayed behind and even though some part of Hawke knew that would happen, she was still sorely disappointed. Aveline had tugged Hawke into a tight embrace and promised to write before they fled to the Docks. Donnic had stood solemnly by his wife and promised to keep her safe to Marian. 

Marian was standing on the deck, watching the black waves brush against the heavy _Siren's Call II_ under the cool moonlight. She had long since washed the blood of the deranged Knight-Commander from her hands and yet all she could see was the blood of everyone who had died because of her actions. At this point she had simply lost count of how many times she had been sick over the railing. Her armor had been scrubbed and left with the rest of her meager belongings below deck and she now stood shivering in a simple white dress that blew around her legs with the wind. 

Warm arms engulfed her body from behind and she automatically leaned back into his embrace. Fenris smelled of salt water, sweat, and of the warm spicy soap she had become so accustomed to these past few months. She breathed in the scent of him and sighed, her headache easing slightly. 

"You've been sick a lot these past few days," his low voice rumbled against her neck invoking goose bumps to trail along her skin. 

"Yes I suppose I have been," she agreed thoughtfully. They had been through a lot of turmoil as of recent. She had lost a dear friend and had said goodbye to the home she had made for the second time in her life. 

"When was the last time you bled?" he asked seriously. Immediately, she stiffened against his chest and shuddered. _When_ had she? 

"I-I believe... it's been two months..." her voice trailed off as realization dawned. It should have been so obvious but yet she never would have guessed. "I don't understand! I didn't think I could even have children after..." 

He softly rubbed his hands along her arms and spun her around to face him. There were conflicting expressions flickering back and forth on his face. He looked to be uncertain and yet content. 

"If this is true then I would be most happy," Fenris murmured with the slightest grin playing on his full lips. 

"I..." tears welled at the corners of her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. 

_Do I want this? After everything?_

Her thoughts were overwhelmed with memories of their painful experience but the thought of having a family again seemed almost too good to be true. She had her lover and now her sister was fleeing with them into whatever life they may start. A ridiculous smile tugged at her mouth until she was grinning and crying like a fool. It had only made Fenris laugh and spin her around in his arms in response. 

"I feel that since we've had a bit of a head start with this that I may as well ask you to become my wife," their laughing was interrupted by his suggestion and her brows shot up in surprise. He stepped back from her arms and behind a beam where he pulled out a hard, black case. Immediately she recognized the shape of it and stared silently in awe. Fenris stepped forth once more before unlatching the case to reveal a beautiful, spruce cello that looked to be crafted in Orlais. 

"Are you proposing to me with a cello?" she asked with an uncontrollable smirk. He shrugged but then stepped over the instrument and reached into his pocket to reveal a simple ring with a single garnet gem tucked into the center, with a floral pattern surrounding it. 

"Yes and no. I believe the cello would be of more use to you but I had to get this too," he assured her with a brilliant grin that never failed to weaken her knees. 

"Well duh. Of course I'll marry you, Fennie," she sniffed and wiped her tears back before he cautiously slipped the ring onto her finger. They stayed on the deck all night while Fenris sat and watched her tune and pluck at the strings until she finally made beautiful music once more. 


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! I hope you enjoyed this!  
> One more song recommendation:  
> [The Drums - Forever & Ever Amen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DB6OFfjj7KI)

**Three years later...**

 

No, Fenris was not happy indeed. 

Receiving Varric's letter was no surprise after the pain he had felt in his wrist that fateful night one month before. He knew exactly what had transpired but was none too pleased to get the confirmation. 

His wife, his blighted foolish wife, had fallen into the Fade and been gravely injured. He knew she was alive though and that was all that got him through these past several weeks before he traveled to Skyhold. There were words to be had with this Lady Inquisitor, no matter how close his wife had come to be with her. 

As he guided the horse up the harsh trail through the Frostback mountains, there was a blunt jab to his abdomen. He looked down to the bundle curled up in a makeshift carrier against his chest and could not help but smile. 

His six-month old daughter, Violet, was asleep and nestled firmly against his armor while his two year old son, Leto, was squirming in front of him and wrapping his hands along the horse's hair. 

"We will see your mother soon," Fenris promised his children with an affectionate brush to the thick mop of black hair on his son's head. Leto darted his head around to pierce green-eyed daggers at his father. 

"I want to see Mama _now,_ " he huffed while pulling his little hands into fists. Fenris swallowed the urge to laugh at how stubborn his son was and instead shrugged. 

"Patience, Leto." 

The truth was, Fenris himself was running out of patience. It had been three months since he had seen Marian and he was beyond furious. He fought the urge daily to run to her and join the Inquisition but knew his children were his first priority. He wanted to scream at her until his throat ran dry then bury his face in the crook of her neck. He missed her terribly. Leto could not understand why his mother had to go and Violet cried nonstop without Hawke to cradle her. Fenris tried so very hard but there were some things only a mother could fix. 

There were Inquisition scouts lined up along the trail patrolling who nodded at him in greeting. They saw no threat in a lone traveler with two infant children dangling over his horse. In another life he could never have imagined himself in such a state. He looked almost comical, this fierce warrior elf gripping two babies against him to shield them from the bitter cold. Despite their appearance, he was most proud of his little family. 

As soon as Skyhold came into view, Leto kicked his feet into the air and started to squeal. 

"Is that where Mama is?" he demanded, tossing his little head behind to eagerly look at Fenris. 

"It is indeed." 

Soon they were urged through the gates after briefly conversing with a scout on their purpose to Skyhold. The weary Ferelden mare trotted across the stone bridge eagerly, aware of a journey at last come to an end. Even though traveling alone with two young children was a nuisance, Fenris would not have had it any other way. Of course Bethany and Merrill had offered to babysit but he refused; Hawke needed to see her babies. 

After carefully climbing down from the horse with his daughter cradled against him and his son wrapped in one arm, he sighed heavily. The trio had been traveling for almost a week just to get to this place and the children were restless. At last Violet awoke and began to wail, her dark eyes wide and spilling with tears, causing nearby soldiers and refugees to glance at the family. He bit back a groan as he softly lifted her from the carrier and began to rock her and murmur gentle words to soothe her. 

"Well... shit," a familiar voice called. Fenris darted his head up to see Varric descending the stone steps with a giant grin plastered on his face. 

"Don't swear in front of my kids, _dwarf_ ," Fenris scowled automatically, but there was no bite to it. Varric chuckled and bent down to look at Leto and opened his arms wide. 

"Uncle Varric!" Leto jumped onto the dwarf and he laughed, affectionately patting the child's head. 

"It's good to see you too kid," he managed to say while the curious kid began to climb over him and tug at his chest hair. 

"Where is she?" Fenris demanded. He was weary from their journey and more than eager to see his wife. Varric motioned up to a tower upon the battlements and Fenris nodded in thanks. 

"We'll catch up later, dwarf. I must see her now," he promised before ushering Leto back to his side. He took his son's hand and began to walk up the stairs to the tower the dwarf pointed to. If he wasn't carrying two children with him, he would have sprinted to her. 

After some complaints from Leto about too many steps and a restless infant kicking his chest, he finally stood before the tower. He heard movement to the side and there _she_ was. 

She looked much the same as ever, staring down at the bustling activity below by the tavern. Her dark hair was pulled into a braid that fell over her shoulder and the armor she wore looked battered and in much need of replacement. His heart thudded madly in his chest as he quickly stepped to the side and walked over to her. 

" _Hawke_ ," he breathed, his voice hoarse and relieved. She darted around, startled, her brown eyes wide and incredulous. 

"Fenris," she murmured. Her eyes locked with his and she quivered with emotion. 

Sudden anger coursed through his veins and he trembled. Violet shifted in his arms and he quickly held her out in front of him into the air before Marian. 

"Remember _these_?" he almost spat, gesturing to the kids. Rage threatened to overtake him as he looked at his wife. He carefully placed Violet in Hawke's stunned arms and she cradled the infant close to her side, propping her on her hip. 

"Of course, I-" 

"How could you do this?!" he hated how weakly his voice betrayed him. Hot tears brimmed in his eyes that threatened to overtake him at any moment. Leto quickly threw his small arms around one of his legs to comfort him. 

"I'm sorry Fenris," tears freely spilled down her cheeks as she looked upon her family. She bent down and held out her free arm to Leto before he unleashed his grip on Fenris's leg and threw himself into his mother's embrace. She scooped him up easily and held her children close as she nuzzled her face into their arms. 

"Mama," Leto cried into his mother's neck. 

"I've missed you so much," she murmured, kissing the dark hair on the tops of their heads. Fenris watched the tender reunion unfold between his family and tried to quiet his uneasiness. He did not really blame her, of course he didn't. Hawke felt that Corypheus was her responsibility and that she had to do something to help. Fenris would follow her anywhere, she knew that, but he could not do it with two small children to care for. She had left him so abruptly that it stunned him. He had to stay strong and promise Leto that she would come home but even he had a terrible feeling in his gut. 

After he had woken in a sweat that one night and his scarred wrist burned through the sheets, he knew she was in trouble. When he inevitably received a letter from Varric he knew he would have to go to her. Seeing her now like this, relatively unscathed, was almost too much. 

She carefully set Leto down who immediately tugged on her leg, she approached Fenris. 

"Fennie?" she asked carefully, her voice a sweet combination of playful and emotional. As a tear slipped down her face, he immediately reached a hand up to wipe it away with his thumb. She brushed her lips against his palm and rubbed her cheek against it before he came crashing into her. His arms snaked around her waist, taking care not to knock Violet out of her arm, and crashed his lips into hers eagerly. She melted against him while Violet palmed a fist against his chest. 

"Eww," Leto spat while tugging at his father's leg. Fenris and Hawke broke apart laughing, their eyes locked and scarred wrists meeting as they intertwined their fingers together. Marian's braid was yanked by the fussy baby, causing her dark hair to fall free around her shoulders and they laughed more. 

"So please tell me what has happened back home while I was away," Hawke insisted, leaving a trail of kisses along his neck. Fenris tried to concentrate as she made his mind wander with her lips. 

"Aveline has finally given birth to a daughter, Thalia. Your sister is now giving lessons to local apostate children and has married the _abomination_. Merrill's been helping Bethany with teaching and Isabela is with that assassin, Zevran, in Antiva," he quickly summed up the events that have happened while she was away. 

" _What_? Bethany got married while I was away?!" she pulled back, astonished. Fenris chuckled and nodded. 

"Her excuse was she couldn't wait." 

"Ugh, I can't believe her! Wait until Varric hears this." 

"Marian?" he wrapped his arm back around her and pulled her close, their foreheads touching and breaths mingling.

"Yes?" she whispered as their eyes met once more. 

" _Never again_ ," Fenris said, honeyed voice trembling. 

She kissed his cheek quickly and then looked back into his eyes before promising, " _Never again_." 


End file.
